Soldier Boy
by gothraven89
Summary: AU. 18 yr old Sam Winchester doesn't go to Stanford like his Family thinks he did. Instead, he ends up at Parris Island and then the battle fronts of Iraq itself. This is the story of that Journey and after. Please REVIEW the longer the better
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Soldier Boy

_"Semper Fidelis, always faithful. You'll take the corpse off the battlefield even if it means your own life ... Alive or dead, they come back with you."_

_- Nancy Sherman_

Samuel Winchester let out a small sigh as he stared out the window of the silver coach bus he was currently aboard with several other young men from all walks of life. It was strange really, he wasn't nervous like so many of his fellow passengers were. He sat calm and more or less quiet save for the occasional greeting and introduction with the other guys on the bus. In all honesty, the only real emotion he was feeling at the moment was relief. Relief of all things as he sat in this silver coach bus, relief that he was so far away from his father and brother, relief that they were safe. Relief of all things that, he was less than a mile from many have described only as Hell of Earth.

Less than a mile from the Marine Corps Recruit Depot in Parris Island, South Carolina.

Now, one must be wondering just what the hell Sam Winchester was doing on a bus headed for the toughest Boot Camp in the whole of the United States Armed Forces. To simply put it, Sam Winchester was on his way to become a Marine. Another sigh escaped Sam as he pondered the reasons as to why he found himself in this current situation. Unlike many of his fellow recruits who were here to defend their country, follow in family tradition, or just because they wanted to join the army and blow shit up, Sam was on his way to Parris Island because he wanted to keep his family alive. As he stared at the dark shapes and shadows as they passed by his window, Sam's mind drifted to the nightmare that had served as the catalyst that led to where he found himself now.

The nightmare went like this...

_Sam_ _awoke with a start in the room he and Dean shared in their current home. _

_He was alone, the twin single matress across from his was empty, the sheets still neatly made and unused. _

_Odd. _

_Where was Dean? _

_With a feeling of unease stirring within the pit of his stomach, Sam climbed out of bed and slowly, cautiously walked out on the bedroom to go find his missing older sibling. _

_The soles of his bare feet tingled as they walked across the hardwood floor of the hallway that led to the livingroom. _

_Sam paused by his father's room to peak inside. _

_The bed was empty, just like Dean's. _

_Where was his father? _

_Now begining to worry a little, Sam picked up the pace and walked down the hallway till he reached the livingroom. _

_It was empty. _

_" Dean? Dad?" Called out Sam as he looked around the room for his family. _

_All he got in answer was an eerie silence. _

_And then, a sound reached his ears that made his blood freeze in his veins. _

_" Sammy." _

_It was a small, plaintiff whisper. _

_It was Dean's voice. _

_" Dean?" Called out Sam, the seventeen year old was frantically looking around the room trying to locate his brother. _

_" S-Sammy." Came the whisper again though, this time, the voice was older, deeper. _

_John Winchester. _

_" Dad?" Called out Sam, this time seeking out his parent. _

_" Where are you guys?" Cried Sam. The young man was so frantic, he didn't notice the black swirls of mist that were solidifying into a dark, humanoid mass behind him. _

_A pair of gleaming, golden eyes shone with sick amusement at the teenager's terror before the thing lashed out at the youngest Winchester._

_Sam let out a loud gasp as he was roughly yanked into a vice-like headlock._

_The young man struggled wildly against his captor, clawing at the black, misty tendril-like arms that were nearly choking the life out of him. _

_" Now now Sammyboy, take it easy, no need to flip a disc." Came a gravelly, amused voice by Sam's ear. _

_Sam felt his body go numb, his arms flopping uselessly to his sides, his knees giving out so that all of his weight was being supported by his captor, his whole being in the throngs of an unnatural paralysis with the only movement being his chest heaving and his eyes trying to get a glimpse of who his captor was. _

_" W-Where's Dean and my Dad?" Hissed Sam._

_His answer was the deep, demonic laugh that rumbled against his back and shoulders. _

_Then, Sam let out a small yelp when he felt something warm and sticky minutely splash onto his right cheek._

_" Wha?" Sam began to ask when his captor roughly gripped his chin and wrench his hed upwards so that his gaze went upwards... _

_To the ceiling. _

_Sam's moss green eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as a loud gasp of horror escaped his lungs as he gazed upon the scene before him. _

_A scene that was ripped from the very beating heart of Hell itself. _

_Two pairs of familiar eyed stared back at him, glazed and dying. _

_There on the ceiling, pinned by some unseen force were Dean and John Winchester. Both men lay with their gut's slashed open and bleeding a deep red. _

_" DEAN, DAD, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!" _

_Sam struggled meakly, all the while screaming his head off. _

_" Just like Mommy." Came the gravelly voice, laced with sick mirth, making Sam freeze in his struggling as cold realization settled over him. _

_He new what was next, his father had told him of Mary Winchester's fate. _

_The innevitable loud roar boomed through the room as monsterous orange flames erupted behind the bodies of Dean and John, slowly begining to incinerate them both. _

_The Demon reliquished his hold around Sam, watching with a sick smile as the young mand collapsed to his knees, his wide eyes transfixed on his dying father and brother._

_The flames soon fully engulfed the two people pinned to the ceiling, leaving nothing left. _

_The gravel rough voice echoed through the air around Sam as he turned his head to look up at the man with Yellow Eyes. _

_" This is all your fault Sammyboy. I'm gonna kill them, just like I killed your mommy. All for you." _

It was after that dream that Sam had vowed to never let that happen to his family. To never let what he'd seen become reality.

Sure, he'd gotten into Stanford with a full ride but, he'd secretly called the college and declined their offer.

He'd gone on pretending that he was going, packed a duffle, walked out the door with his father's angry voice ringing in his ears, telling him to stay gone, to never come back, and Dean's heartbroken face and accusing eyes burned into his memory.

He'd forced himself to turn his back on his family, lied to the both of them and then boarded the bus for Parris Island with a bunch of other young guys.

Now, he was pulling up beside the famed building that existed for a single purpose, to make Marines.

The bus slowly came to a halt and Sam had time to let out a small, shaky breath before the yelling began.

" GET OUT OF THE DAMN BUS, MOVE!!!" Boomed a deep, male voice that held no room for argument.

The bus rapidly emptied and Sam soon found himself standing on the famous yellow footprints outside of the Parris Island Receiving Building with his fellow recruits, the Drill Seargent's voice ringing out.

" You lot are all about to leave your civilian lives behind and enter the United States Marine Corp, do you understand?!" He yelled.

" Yes Sir!" Yelled out the whole group. It didn't satisfy the Seargent.

" NO! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!" He yelled.

" YES SIR!!!" Yelled the group, louder this time.

" YOU WILL DO AS YOU ARE TOLD. YOUR EYES WILL BE GLUED FRONT AND YOUR MOUTH SHUT, DO YOU UNDERTSAND?!"

" YES SIR!"

From where he stood, Sam had a single thought going through his head.

_" I'm at home already." _


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural, it is all property of the CW11 Network, and whatnot, so don't sue me, please.

Chapter 2

Drill Sergeant Mike Goodman let out a small sigh as he stared out at his newest batch of recruits here at Parris Island.

It had been a good three weeks since they'd all arrived.

As he scanned the many nearly shaved heads, his eyes zeroed in on the tall young man who was holding one of his fellow recruits ankles while the man was doing his crunches.

As Goodman could recall, the recruit he was currently eyeing was Sam,

Sam Winchester, with his head shorn of it's once shaggy mop of silky, chocolate brown locks, clad in a standard Marine recruit garb of a plain military green t-shirt, Woodland Marpat trousers, and boots.

Three weeks and this kid was already in total equilibrium with the tough, warrior's way of life here at Boot Camp, hell, it had seemed this kid had fully acclimated to his new environment the first night. On top of that, he'd made a boatload of buddies in the weeks that had followed.

It was like he'd been born for the Corp.

As he gazed at the young man who was secretly impressing him enough for consideration of recomendation to Special Forces training, Goodman remembered the night when the recruits had first arrived and were marched to the phones for their mandatory phone call to their loved ones back home, informing them of their safe arrival to Boot Camp.

The recruits had all lined up neatly to use the phones. All, save for one tall young man with a shaggy hair.

Samuel Winchester.

He'd stood a little ways apart from everyone else and had immediately caught the attention of Mike Goodman.

The Drill Sergeant had immediately descended on the young man, ready to tear him a new one for breaking formation.

_WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUT OF FORMATION RECRUIT?" Asked Goodman loudly, his eyes hard as he leered at the young man. _

_He'd expected the new recruit to flinch and start stammering out an answer like he'd seen so many new recuits do in his nearly fifteen years as a Drill Sergeant. _

_So it was a bit of a shock to him when the tall, moppy haired young man kept his eyes front and answered him in perfect military fashion. _

_" This Recruit can't contact his family. There is no permanant address or phone number sir." _

_At this, Goodman was taken aback for a moment before he spared a glance to the other recruits before stepping closer to Sam and addressing the young recruit just a little more quietly. _

_" What do you mean recruit?" He asked. _

_" This recruit's family moves around alot, never stays in one place because of this recruit's father's job sir. They've most likely moved to a new town by now and... This recruit's family specifically requested that he not contact them. If it's not to much to ask, this recruit wishes to adhere to that request sir." Answered Sam, keeping his voice steady and strong with every fiber of his will because inside, he felt like a Wendigo was clawing his heart to shreds. His eyes burned but, he blinked back the tears of anguish and kept his face stoic._

_With his brow knitting in confusion and concern for a fraction of a second, Goodman grabbed Sam by his arm and firmly tugged the recruit to the corner so that they could speak privately. _

_" What the hell's goin on with you Recruit?" Asked Goodman. _

_" Permission to be frank sir?" Asked Sam. _

_" Go ahead." Answered Goodman, a pair of deep moss green eyes immediately met his, the bone deep sadness and near abject misery that these eyes held within them was enough to break through the Drill Sergeant's hardened emotional defenses and made Goodman feel a small pang in his heart for just a moment as Sam spoke. _

_" My father told me that, if I wanted to go, I'd have to stay gone and never come back. And I have no way of contacting him or my brother Sir." Said Sam then, he averted his gaze to the floor for a second before once again meeting Goodman's gaze, moss green eyes hardening as he spoke. _

_" May this Recruit call his priest instead sir?" He asked, now back to Military fashion once again. _

_Mike Goodman found himself stunned into silence but, years of training quickly helped recover his composure in a split second. _

_" That would be satisfactory recruit. NOW GET IN LINE AND DO SO!" Barked Goodman._

_" YES SIR!" Answered Sam before he quickly obeyed the order and rejoined the line to one of the phones. _

Mike Goodman snapped out of his stroll down memory lane and immediately swooped down on his recruits, yelling at the top of his lungs for them to move their ass's.

Sam pulled Greg, the recruit whom he'd been helping with crunches to his feet and gave the other recruit a small grin before running of to join the formation as the unit set off on what would most likley be a many mile jog with Sergeant Goodman leading the way.

Sam couldn't help but be amazed that a full 21 days had passed since he'd arrived here at Parris Island and quiet frankly, he didn't mind being here, didn't mind it at all.

As he ran in perfect sinc with the rest of the recruits, Sam too, remembered his first night here at Parris Island.

He remembered his one and only phonecall... to Pastor Jim's answering machine. Sam had known full well that the Pastor was actually out of the country, visiting friends and helping out fellow hunters in Britain.

He'd said he wouldn't be back for a good five months. By then, Sam's 91 days of Boot Camp would be long finished.

_" This is Pastor James Murphy, I'm not in right now so, just leave a message after the beep and God Bless."_

_" This is Recruit Winchester. I have arrived safely at Parris Island. Please do not send any food or bulky items to me in the mail. I will contact you in 3 to 5 days by postcard with my new address. Thankyou for your support, goodbye for now." Sam had said quickly, by some miracle he'd fit it all in before the beep sounded._

Three weeks had passed by since that night and Sam couldn't help but wonder as he ran, where were his father and brother? Where we they okay? Where they out there kicking supernatural ass? Were they still mad at him for leaving them like he had? Would they figure out where he was if by some fluke they found out he wasn't safely in California attending Standford University?

All of these questions swirled around in his head but, there were two clear questions that stood out above all in his mind.

" What did the future hold for him once boot camp was over?

Would he be able to survive what would come?

Meanwhile, in Boulder, Colorado...

A sleek black 1967 Chevy Impala rumbled down the road, carrying two passengers.

From where he sat behind the wheel, John Winchester was only half focused on driving.

The rest of his mind was focused chiefly on the absent member of his family.

Sammy.

His youngest child.

To think, it had already been a full three weeks since he'd watched his youngest son walk out the door. Three weeks since he'd seen his son walk away from his family and the hunter's way of life.

A small, almost imperceptable sigh escaped the oldest Winchester.

Three weeks had passed by since he'd told his youngest that if he wanted to go, he would have to stay gone.

Naturally, a part of John regretted ever say those harsh words to his youngest.

Everytime John closed his eyes, he'd see Sam's face, the expression it had held after his father's ultimatum registered to him.

There was shock, which was then replaced with despair and aguish, and then, it had turned into a look of stubborn determination warring with bone deep sadness as he gave a mute nod before he'd bolted upstairs, packed a bag and then stormed out the door without looking back. But John had caught sight of the sparkle of tears shining in Sam's eyes as he'd all but run past him out the door.

John would've continued to think about that night when Dean's voice broke him out of his musings.

" Hey Dad, there's a diner up ahead, we can grab some lunch."

John turned to see the stoic face of his oldest son staring back at him.

The eldest Winchester son had a good few days of stubble gracing his cheeks, his eyes were dim and he sat with dejection radiating from his very being.

Dean held his father's gaze for a few seconds before turning his eyes front. Though his eyes were directed at the asphault road the windsheild framed, he didn't see it.

All he saw was Sammy.

His baby brother Sammy.

In the weeks following Sam's departure, Dean had tried in vain to act as normal as possible, to put up a front to hide just how shattered he really was.

His father had seen right through the act but didn't bring up the subject that was like a bleeding wound over Dean's heart.

In the following days, both remaining Winchesters all but threw themselves into any hunt they could find.

Both desperately trying to keep their minds off their missing member. Both men to stubborn and prideful to head off to Palo Alto and see if Sam had reached Stanford University in one peice.

As they headed over to the diner for lunch, they were totally oblivious to where their Sam really was, and what he'd gotten himself into.

On top of that, the only thing that knew the truth about Sam's real whereabouts was an answering machine sitting on a desk in a cluttered office in an empty house that stood next to an old Chapel in Blue Earth, Minnesota.

Only an answering machine knew the truth about the youngest Winchester's real fate at the moment.

Only a machine knew.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural, it is all property of the CW11 Network, and whatnot, so don't sue me, please.

Chapter 3

The sun slowly rose above the horizon, bringing a new morning over Parris Island.

With this new morning also came something else. A new developement.

This new morning marked the beginning of phase three or Marine Corp Boot Camp.

This new morning marked the true beginning of Hell for some.

Recruit Winchester couldn't wait to begin.

As Sam stood with the rest of the battalion, he couldn't help but feel excitement spike through his being.

Two months had passed by, it was November now. Just four more weeks left.

The end was in sight, he was so close to acheiving what he'd set out to do, becoming a United States Marine.

True, his reasons for choosing such a way of life where not as patriotic as some of his fellow recruits but, it was an honorable reason in itself.

It was simple really.

Become a Marine, get shipped off to the Middle East to fight in a war that some believed was never meant to happen, and be as far away from his beloved family, Dean and his dad as he could manage, to keep them safe... from him.

Just four more weeks.

Sam couldn't help but feel guilt and anguish mingle with his previous feelings of eager anticipation.

He knew that his family was still oblivious to his true where abouts because there had been no sleek, black 1967 Chevy Impala crashing through the gates of Parris Island, no beyond majorly pissed off Dean or Dad hauling his ass out of here regardless of legality.

He was here, he was gonna stay here, he was gonna see this through.

No matter what.

Because there was one thing both his daddy and his brother taught him.

Winchesters don't quit. Ever.

" COMPANY, MOVE!!!" Boomed Drill Sergeant Mike Goodman's voice, accompanied by the yells and urges of his fellow Drill Sergeants.

Sam's Unit took off running with Goodman relentlessly on their heels as they started Basic Warrior Training week with a lovely ten mile run followed immediately with a barbwire obstical course culminating with the rapelling tower at the very end, all the while everyone was fully clothed in their recruit uniforms, standard military packs, and rifles.

All with a very sunny forcast for the day through dense woods, marshland, and swamp.

Terrific.

Hours later, after the grueling run was over, Sam found himself balanced precariously on top of a thick rope, suspended over a pool of murky water.

The goal was to pull himself across until he was instructed to roll over and go the rest of the way hanging upside down.

A loud splash to his left informed him that one of his fellow recruits didn't fair as well as he was at the moment and had just taken an unwanted bath.

" C'MON WINCHESTER, PICK UP THE PACE!!!!" Yelled Goodman.

" YES SIR!" Answered back Sam before he made quick work of the remaining distance to the other side and gracefully landed on his feet and started doing a set of jumping jacks with instinct like fluidity.

Once he was done, he sent the recruits who were currently balancing on the ropes or getting ready to do so a quick double thumbs up and a big grin of support before Goodman descended on his ass and started barking at him to keep moving and stop grinning like an oaf.

As Goodman trotted after the tall recruit to the next obstical in the course, he was secretly amused by Sam's antics.

In all of his years as a Drill Sergeant, he'd never met a recruit that could actually give a grin that big while he was in phase three of Marine Corp Boot Camp.

Guess Sam was one of the Marine Recruits who was actually enjoying himself out here.

Drill Sergeant Mike Goodman would never say this outloud but, though he was proud of the fine young men he was currently training to become elite warriors for the U.S. Armed Forces, Sam Winchester was the one and only recruit who'd managed to wiggle his way to a special place in the Drill Sergeant's heart.

But, enough about special places in someone's hearts and grins that put the sun to shame.

There's no room in the Marine Corp Boot Camp for softness, there is only the warrior edict and the recruits, the young men who become the marines who become your brothers on whatever battlefield you might end up in.

And so, the first day of Basic Warrior Training wore on and by the end of the day, everyone was beat, everyone was sporting new aches and paines, some where near cardiac arrest after having to rapel down a precariously tall tower but most of all, everyone was still in one piece and would be around for tomorrow.

" Hey Sam, you excited about when Family Day gets here?" Asked Recruit Matthew Ruiz as he walked along side Sam as the battalion headed back to barracks.

Matthew and those who'd heard the question expected Sam to give them one of those famous mega-watt grins of his.

Instead, they watched as a look of pure anguish flashed across Sam's face before he quickly forced a smile that didn't quiet banish the deep sadness in his moss green eyes.

" Y-Yeah, Family Day sounds great. I'm happy for you guys." He said quickly before he hastely walked ahead, leaving Matthew and several other recruits very confused and very concerned.

" What was that all about." Asked Mark Twombly as he watched his friend's retreating form.

A look to the other recruits and a silent agreement was reached.

They would definately weedle an explanation out of Sam before lights out tonight.

The evening meal was a somewhat tense affair with Mathew, Mark, and several other recruits all sent worried glances at Sam where he sat at the very end of the table, eating his dinner in silence when usually he be in the group and participating in whatever conversations were happening.

When dinner was over and the recruits were safely back in their barracks, the other recruits waited until Sam was seated firmly on his standard military sleeping arrangement before they all surrounded him.

" Guys, what's goin on?" Asked Sam flatly as he looked around at the serious faces of his friends and fellow soon to be Marines.

" We were just about to ask you that very question Sam." Said Mark as he crossed his arms and put on his most intimidating face, eventhough it was basically useless against the youngest Winchester, who just stared blankly at his friend, his gaze never leaving Mark's.

" Yeah Sam, what's goin on with you man? I mean, you looked like you just watched someone die when I mentioned Family Day, what gives?" Asked Matthew Ruiz.

At this, they watched as Sam bowed his head and gave a small, breathy, humorless laugh before he looked back up at them.

" You guys are worried about that?" Jeez, it's nothing, really." Assured Sam, hoping with everything he had that this subject was dropped as quickly as possible. After all, the subject of his family hadn't really been brought up in all the time he'd been here at Parris Island. Sure, the others knew he had a father and older brother but that was about it.

" It sure as hell didn't look like nothin to me man." Said Mark.

They watched as Sam heaved a sigh and bowed his head, one of his hands reaching up to scratch the back of his shorn scalp. He always did that when he was nervous, like now.

" Guys, it isn't a big deal really. It's just... there won't be anyone coming to see me on family day, that's all." Said Sam quietly as he finally answered.

There was a stunned silence before Matthew spoke.

" What do ya mean no one's comin to see you man, I mean, don't your dad and you brother know about Family Day?" He asked as he stared at Sam with growing concern.

They all watched as a deep, aweful, sadness settled over Sam's face as an equally sad and humorless smile graced his lips as he answered Mark's question with a question of his own.

" Can you guys promise to keep what I'm about to tell you a secret?"

Intrigued and slightly alarmed, the other recruits nodded in agreement.

Sam cleared his throat to loosen it of its constriction and spoke.

" Guys, the reason by Dad and brother aren't coming on Family day is...Well the truth is... My family doesn't have a clue that I'm here Hell, they don't even know I joined the Marine Corp."

There was stunned silence before Mark broke the silence.

" What the fuck are you saying man?" He asked as he stared at Sam with wide, disbelieving eyes.

Sam was unfazed by his friend's use of colorful language and the way the other recruits were gawking at him like he was from another planet. Licking his suddenly dry lips and huffing a small sigh, Sam elaborated.

" What I'm saying is that, my brother and my father think I'm up in Palo Alto California, attending Standford University on a full scholarship, safe and sound. They have no clue that I'm here, in Parris Island, going through Boot Camp to become a Marine. They got no clue at all."

" Sweet Jesus." Swore one of the other recruits before Matthew spoke.

" Damn man, what the hell are you tryin to pull here? How can you go around with the fact that your loved ones don't know where you really are man?"

" Guys, don tell Sarg about this please. I left my family for a reason, they can't know where I am, if I'd stayed with my family, something really really bad would've happened. Besides... They're better off without me, I mean... I'm nothing more than a screw-up anyway and... I couldn't live with myself if something happens to them because of me. Please, I'm asking all of you to not breathe a word of this to anyone, I am so sorry that I'm burdening all of you with this but please, don't tell Sarg. or anyone else. Please, it's a matter of life and death." Said Sam, hating the hint of desperation that laced his voice as he spoke, his deep, moss-green eyes looking at his fellow recruits pleadingly.

The other recruits were reeling at this startling revelation concerning their fellow recruit. They were all feeling a myriad of things but, above all the shock and the disbelief, they were all in awe at the quiet, dignified strength Sam had exuded, having kept this secret for most of boot camp and feeling a new sense of respect for the youngest Winchester.

" Alright, alright Sam, we won't say anything to Sarg, we'll keep this between us." Sighed Mark as the other recruits nodded and spoke in concurrence with what was said.

" Thank you, I appreciated more than I can put into words but, if somebody does find out about my... situation, I won't say that any of you guys knew about me and my family." Said Sam quietly.

All of the Recruits felt a wave of warmth at Sam's vow to protect them if things went South.

" Sam, listen man, it don't matter if you're on the outs with your family. We ain't gonna treat you any different now that we know. We got your back." Said Recruit Rashad Mathers as he gave Sam a smile that the youngest Winchester returned with an appreciative on of his own.

" Thanks guys. Really, thank you." Said Sam, sucessfully battling back the tears that had been burning his eyes to the point of numbness because...

There wasn't any room for Chick-flick in the Marine Corp.

Especially in Phase Three of Boot Camp.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural, it is all property of the CW11 Network, and whatnot, so don't sue me, please.

Chapter 4

In the week that followed Sam's confession concerning his family situation, the other guys all walked around on eggshells with him in the begining but soon, they were all back to the way they were, always watching each other's backs. Sam always grinning in that dazzling way of his whenever the opportunity arose.

They would be needing that comradary now as Sam and his fellow recruits stood before the final test of Boot Camp.

The Crucible.

54 hours of food and sleep deprivation, over 45 miles of marching, a barrage of day and night events requiring every recruit to work together to solve problems, and overcome obstacles and help each other along the way.

This was the rite of Passage.

This was the final, toughest test of Marine Corp training.

Sam could hardly wait as Sergeant Goodman's voice roared the first orders of the Crucible, for all of them to start marching into the dense, North Carolina woods that surrounded Parris Island all with hulking backpacks, heavy weaponry, and full combat gear.

Add in the crisp November winds and cloudy skies, you get absolute misery waiting to happen.

As he marched with his fellow recruits, Sam couldn't help but wonder about a certain smart-ass big brother and hard as nails father of his.

Where were they now?

Did they figure out that he wasn't at Stanford?

Did they even bother to look?

Where they still that mad at him to not even do that?

What if they did look, were they frantically looking for him?

What if they found out where he was and hated him even more for lying to them?

What if...

Sam stopped his train of thought right there.

He didn't have the time to sit around thinking like a scared little shit at the moment, he still had to survive the final test, the Crucible.

There was no room for fear now. He had other recruits counting on him and he'd be damned if he let them down, like he misguidedly thought he'd let down his family by running from them like he had, hell, for ever being born at all.

That was the true purpose the Crucible, for recruits to put all that they've learned in the many weeks of training they'd had to endure.

The Crucible was about shared sacrifices and beating firmly into the minds of all the recruits that it's not about you, it's about the man standing next to you.

It's not about I, it's about we.

With a deep sigh, Sam marched along with the rest of the recruits into the woods, readying himself for the long and hard climb up to the Apex of Marine Corp training.

39 hours later...

Sergeant Mike Goodman let a small sigh escape him as he gazed through the dark at the huddled forms laying on the ground.

These huddled forms were Marine Recruits, totally exhausted from nearly two days of Hell.

Almost no sleep, even less food and they still had 15 more hours to go.

As he scanned the many green lumps that were now allowed a small respite from the torment, if only for a few minutes to catch some sleep, Mike Goodman's eyes zeroed in on the only green lump that was still upright.

More specifically, his eyes zeroed in on Sam Winchester.

" I tell you Mike, that Kid, Winchester, he's gotta be a machine or something to not be out like a light like the rest of them are." Came a voice from behind him, Goodman turned to see one of the sub-Drill Intructors, Evan Thacker come to stand beside him, also eyeing the only conscious recruit on the whole feild.

" Hmm, the Kid's a born Marine as God is my witness. 39 hours and he didn't so much as crack, not once. On top of that, he wouldn't let anyone next to him fall behind either. He'll definately be getting honors come graduation time." Added Goodman gruffly as he and Thacker continued to gaze at the lone green form who was sitting cross-legged amongst his fellow recruits.

From where he sat, Sam let out a deep sigh as he stared out into the dark woods surrounding him and his fellow recruits. The sun wouldn't be up for several long hours.

It would be another 15 more hours before The Crucible was officially over.

As he sat there, Sam found his mind drifting off into memory as he remembered what was probably the worst night of his entire life. The night he'd " left for Standford", left for a _Normal Life_ as it were.

John Winchester's enraged voice filled Sam's ears as he sat there.

_" YOU WANT TO GO, FINE! GO THEN, BUT IF YOU WALK OUT THAT DOOR DON'T YOU EVER EVEN THINK ABOUT COMING BACK, YA HERE ME, STAY GONE, DON'T YOU EVER COME BACK. YOU WANNA TURN YOUR BACK ON ME AND YOUR BROTHER, WE'LL TURN OUR BACKS ON YOU. NOW GET OUT!!!"_

On top of his father's angry words, Sam's mind also remembered the look of betrayal and angry hurt in Dean's eyes as he'd watched Sam pack his bag.

When Sam'd tried to talk to him, to explain his supposed reasons to him, Dean simply clenched his jaw and glared at him muderously before turning and walking out the room and then down the stairs, without saying a single word.

As Marine Recruit Sam Winchester sat on the cold dirt ground of the forrest, he couldn't help but smirk at the sad irony that was his life.

That night, he'd yelled at his father, telling him that he was sick of being a hunter of all things supernatural, sick of having to live a life of wandering around, sick of always having to be under such rigidness and having to witness the horrors he'd seen. Sick of having to live under the shadow of his father and his brother.

All lies.

A web of lies he'd had to spin in order to get away, to keep them safe... from him.

But, look at him now, here he was becoming a United States Marine. Here he was becoming a soldier who would most likely be subjected to even more horrors now that the country was at war. Here he was now... following in his Ex-Marine father's footsteps, following in the footsteps of a life before an unspeakable evil had burned it all away one night nearly two decades ago.

With another sigh, Sam banished the memories that made his heart bleed so badly, to the very darkest recesses of his mind. He didn't have the time to think about what was done and breakdown, he still had 15 hours of Cruicible to get through.

No sooner had he cleared his train of thought, the Drill Instructors, tall and with their faces painted in camouflage colors, all descended upon the recruits like majorly pissed and hungry birds of prey.

" GET UP OFF YOUR ASSES NOW!!!"

" MOVE IT MOVE IT MOVE IT!!!"

" RISE AND SHINE LADIES, THAT'S ENOUGH BEAUTY SLEEP!!!

" MOVE YOUR ASS!!!"

Sam was instantly on his feet with his 50 pound pack strapped firmly to his back. He helped Mark to his feet and immediately noticed the other recruit's very pained expression.

" Blisters?" Asked Sam knowingly as he let go of Mark's elbow.

" Yeah man, God my feet are killing me." Grunted Mark, earning a small look of sympathy from Sam before the youngest Winchester's eyes hardened.

" Suck it up Dude." Grumbled Sam with a smirk before he walked off to make formation with the others, Mark watching him as he went.

Mark stared at his friend's retreating back and couldn't help but let a small grin plaster itself across his face.

Leave it to Sam to tell him exactly what he needed to hear.

Clearing his mind of the pain his feet were in, Mark quickly grabbed his own pack and hobbles as quickly as he could to join his fellow recruits as the all got into in marching formation.

Several hours later in Sparks, Nevada...

Dean Winchester heaved a heavy sigh as he loaded the last of the guns back into the trunk of the Impala while John was checking them out of the motel they'd been staying at during the job they'd been working.

As he shut the truck and leaned heavily against it, Dean felt his heart clench a little as a realization occured to him.

They were in Nevada, Nevada was next to Calfornia, Palo Alto was in California, Stanford University was in California... Sammy was in California. ( So he thinks.)

As he stood there, leaning against the Impala's trunk, Dean's eyes stared off into space as a feeling of deep longing washed over him.

So strong was this desperate desire to see his baby brother, Dean Winchester had to fight tooth and nail not to dive into the driver's seat of the Impala, start the car, and then drive off to Palo Alto California, his father's orders be damned.

But, Dean quickly battled down the urge, his feelings of longin being replaced with those of resentment, anger... betrayal.

Why should he even give a damn about Sam anymore? After all, didn't his baby brother hurt him so bad by turning his back on him? Why should he give a damn anymore?

Sam didn't need him. All Sam wanted was a normal life, white picket fence, a dog, .2 kids and a pretty blonde wife.

Normal.

_" Selfish little bastard... God I miss you so much little brother, why'd you have to go and leave like that man? Why'd you leave like that when me and Dad need you Sammy?"_ Thought Dean as to his chagrin, he felt the burn of bitter tears behind his eyes.

With a shaky breath through his nostrils and closing his eyes, Dean reigned in his emotions in the nick of time as John Winchester came back from checking them out.

" Hey Kiddo, you ready to go?" Asked John as he walked over to his pick-up truck.

" Yeah, I'm good. Where are we headin' to next?" Asked Dean.

" I found us a job, possible poltergeist activity." Said John, Dean had turned around so he didn't see the way his father's face had clouded over and become unreadable.

" Where's it at?" Asked Dean as he pulled the door of the Impala open and began to climb in.

There was a beat before John let out a small sigh and answered his oldest son.

" The job's in Palo Alto."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural, it is all property of the CW11 Network, and whatnot, so don't sue me, please.

Chapter 5

" Jody, Jody six feet four!"

" Jody never had his ass kicked before!"

" I'm gonna take a three-day pass!"

" And really slap a beating on Jody's ass!"

The many deep, male voices all rose as one as they chanted the Jody Call after Lead Drill Sergeant Mike Goodman's booming voice. Marine Recruit Sam Winchester's voice was among them as Sergeant Goodman lead the final, nine mile road march back to the Depot, which marked the end of The Crucible.

At the moment, they had all reached Drill Sergeants Bridge and after that, the final stop was the Parade Deck.

Just a few miles before the Recruits would have the privilage of calling themselves United States Marines.

Less than a mile left.

Just a few more steps.

Everyone was tired, cold, hungry, some where in more pain than others, and all of them fighting the sweet voice of temptation that was whispering in their ears, beckoning them to stop and rest for just a little while.

As he walked, Marine Recruit Mark Twombly was trying with all his might to keep up, his face an open book describing the excruciating pain he was in.

The blisters on his feet had inevitably gotten worse with each mile he'd forced himself to march and now, in the final steps, he was paying for it.

Each step was agony, and his knees were threatening to collapse on him.

After forcing himself to keep going for a good fifteen minutes, Mark's legs finally gave up on him as he began to crumble to the hard asphault road.

But, instead of feeling the cold, hard asphault road, Mark's descent came to a screeching halt unexpectedly.

Mark looked up to see who was holding him up and found a pair of familiar, deep, moss green eyes staring back at him.

" You're legs made of Jelly or somethin' man?" Asked Sam quietly with a tired smile as he hauled his friend back to his feet.

" Can you blame my legs for not cooperating with the rest of me at this point?" Answered back Mark just as softly with a hiss of pain as he began to march again, with Sam's hand gripping his arm with an iron-like force as they kept going.

And so, the recruits kept marching.

They marched for what seemed a life age of the earth, their destination at the end of the nine mile march, the Parris Island Parade Deck seeming to be nothing more than a very distant point on the horizon that was just beyond reach.

They marched with the words of the Jody Call leaving their mouths in a loud and thunderous timber that could most likely be heard in neighboring Charleston as the massive company of green BDU clad men grew closer and closer to the end.

From where he walked, Sam's eyes caught sight of two figures standing off to the left in the distance, staring at the soon to be Marines as they marched by.

Sam felt a jolt of anticipation when he realized these two men were the Base Commander and the Sergeant Major of Parris Island.

If the two highest ranking officers of Parris Island were in sight, than they were almost at the Parade Deck.

Almost at the end of the Crucible.

Sam kept a vigilant eye on Mark as the other man hobbled along on his own after Sam had kept a hand on his arm for a few minutes. Now that they were nearing the very end, Mark silently vowed to make it the rest of the way on his own, his blister covered feet and protesting leg muscles be damned.

As they marched on, the Jody Call grew louder and louder as the company reached the Parade Deck.

And then, Lead Drill Sergeant Mike Goodman's voice boomed through the calm, morning air.

" COMPANY... HALT!!!!"

The voices of the other Drill Sergeants also barked out the call to halt as the many Recruits obeyed in silence.

Sam let out a welcome huff as he set down his 50 Lb pack, stacked his weapons, and unstuck the heavy kevlar helmet that seemed to weigh a ton, off his head and set it down on top of his pack.

The soft cap never felt as good on his head as it did now. Sam felt like he was floating upwards but, that was a normal bodily reaction after having to carry so much weight around for hours and hours on end. Still, it wasn't a bad feeling, better than the pain and fatigue he'd been battling against for nearly three days. On top of that, his feet and shoulders were killing him to no end.

Sam allowed himself to indulge in his discomfort for a few moments before he quickly shook himself out of that state of mind.

There was no room for weakness, no room for indulging in anything pertaining to ones self in the Corp.

Sergeant Mike Goodman's voice boomed out again in an order, the Recruits all formed around the half-size replica of the Marine Corp Memorial, the Felix De Weldon statue of the Flag being raised on Iwo Jima by five marines and one Navy Corpsman.

" ATTENTION!!!"

The Company immediate stood to attention, all the young men standing tall and silent, their heels together, their arms held fimly at their sides, and their eyes glued front.

From where he stood as the head of the fifth ramrod straight line of the neat, military formation, Sam caught sight of the approaching Color Guard that would be raising the flag on the Statue and the Chaplain who would be saying a special prayer for them all, as was the tradition held at the end of The Crucible.

The Chaplain was a tall, middle-aged man dressed in ful uniform with the addition of an Gold colored cross embroidered onto his right sleeve.

There was absolute silence as this one man began to speak, saying the special prayer specifically for the USMC.

" Almighty Father, whose command is over all and whose love never fails, make me aware of Thy presence and obedient to Thy will. Keep me true to my best self, guarding me against dishonesty in purpose and deed and helping me to live so that I can face my fellow Marines, my loved ones, and Thee without shame or fear. Protect my family."

He paused a moment to look around at the many young faces, the many faces of soon to be Marines before he continued.

" Give me the will to do the work of a Marine and to accept my share of responsibilities with vigor and enthusiasm. Grant me the courage to be proficient in my daily performance. Keep me loyal and faithful to my superiors and to the duties my Country and the Marine Corps have entrusted to me. Help me to wear my uniform with dignity, and let it remind me daily of the traditions which I must uphold."

" If I am inclined to doubt, steady my faith; if I am tempted, make me strong to resist; if I should miss the mark, give me courage to try again. Guide me with the light of truth and grant me wisdom by which I may understand the answer to me prayer."

" Thank you almighty Lord, for helping these fine young men through these many difficult trials. Thank you for giving them all the strength to reach the end of this journey, so they can start a new journey, as United States Marines. May you all be worthy of the honor you are about to receive."

The Chaplain completed the prayer with " Amen."

In perfect unison, the entire company echoed this one word in acknowledgement of this prayer to God Almighty.

Then, the Color Guard proceeded to raise the flag on the Memorial Statue as The First Sergeant stepped forward to say a few words of his own.

" Gentlemen, all of you now stand before a replica of the Felix De Weldon Marine Memorial Statue that stands in Washington D.C. This statue depicts the American flag being raised on Iwo Jima, Japan during World War II on February 23,1945 by five U.S. Marines and one Navy Corspman. The names of these men were Sgt. Micheal Strank, Cpl. Harlon Block, Cpl. Rene Gagnon, Cpl. Ira Hayes, PFC. Franklin Sousley and Navy Corpsmen John Bradley."

The Sergeant paused for a moment before he continued.

" Gentlemen, as all of you stand before me on this day, I want all of you to remember that these men didn't just raise a flag on some God forsaken hill in Japan, these men banded together amidst the bullets and the mayhem to gave this country an image of Hope. I want all of you to know that you are about to join an elite company. It is my fervent wish that as you look upon the statue that stands behind me, you realize that these men were real, they fought and died for this country. I want all of you to remember these men. I want all of you to remember them, and never, ever besmirch their memory and what they died for."

Then, with a small glint in his deep brown eyes, the First Sergeant spoke again.

" Is that understood?" He asked.

" Yes Sir!" Came the rumbling answer.

That didn't satisfy the Sergeant.

" NO! IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?!!!!" He roared.

" SIR YES SIR!!!!" Came the thunderous reply.

" Good." Said the Sergeant, more to himself than to others as he gave a small nod to the waiting Color Gaurd to go ahead with their duties.

The Color Guard raised the flag on the statue, the massive national emblem swayed gracefully in the breeze as it took up residence at the very apex of the pole that the bronze statues were forever frozen in the action of erecting to full height.

Sam felt a myriad of emotions wash over him as he watched Drill Sergeant Mike Goodman come up to his battallion and started handing out the USMC Emblem, the Eagel, Globe and Anchor.

Sam felt both excitement and sadness when Sgt. Goodman finally came to stand before him.

Sergeant Mike Goodman took a moment to stare at the tall young man before him, though his face was a mask of emotion so customary to a man in the military, behind it was a feeling of deep pride in this young man whom he'd never seen falter, not even once during the last 13 weeks of boot camp.

With his eyes staring into those of a deep moss green hue, Goodman held out the coveted emblem for Sam to take into his own hand.

Taking in a silent breath to steady his nerve, United States Marine Corp Recruit Samuel Winchester reached out and took the honor that was being offered to him, a simple hat insignia that meant so much to so many into his left hand while his right firmly clasped the hand of his Drill Sergeant.

As they shook hands, Sgt. Mike Goodman uttered the words to Sam, that all the young men assembled here now, on this morning had been waiting to hear for thirteen of the longest, grueling weeks of their lives.

" Good work, Marine."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 6

Dean Winchester felt a pang of longing and nervousness lance through his heart where he sat in the driver's seat of the Impala as his eyes caught sight of the road sign that read:

" WELCOME TO CALIFORNIA, THE GOLDEN STATE."

He and his dad had finally made it to California and were well on their way to reaching the city of Palo Alto.

They'd most likely reach their destination by nightfall.

From where he sat driving his Ford Pick-up, John let out a deep sigh.

He and Dean were headed to a job that involved a poltergeist running wild and causing havoc in a family home in the Palo Alto suburbs.

Both of the Winchester's were here to work a job, that was all there was to it.

Honest...

They weren't fooling each other one bit.

Dean knew full well that John wanted to see his wayward youngest son and though he was trying to act all " Patented John Winchester Nonchalant" about the whole thing, he knew his father was eager to see Sammy.

John also knew full well that Dean was just as eager and anxious hell, maybe more so than him. Though Dean was putting on his best macho-man act whenever his boy was around him, John could see right through it all. He knew full well that Dean was afraid to face Sam, afraid of what could happen if the Sh++ hit the fan.

It was common knowledge that in the Winchester family, if that ever happened, and it often did, things would get ugly, real ugly. Enough to give anyone strong or weak a collasal migraine.

To be honest, both of the elder Winchesters were slightly nervous, both of them were really unsure of how to handle the situation they were in, though they'd never admit it out loud to each other.

Now, as each man drove onwards toward their newest gig in Palo Alto, the utmost thought of their minds was not the rogue poltergeist, oh no, both of them were coming up with an excuse each to head over to Stanford University once they were settled in some five-dollar motel.

Both of them trying to come up with an excuse so that they could go see their Sammy.

All the while still oblivious to his true where abouts, and what he'd officially become.

John and Dean would be reaching Palo Alto by nightfall.

Meanwhile, at the Marine Corps Recruit Depot, Parris Island, near Beaufort, South Carolina...

A soft sigh escaped a tall, moss green eyed, newly minted United States Marine.

Sam stood, packing his belongings and readying everything as immaculately and to perfection as he could for The Battalion Commanders Inspection.

Sam paused in his cleaning and organizing to once again let his mind try to fathom his current situation.

This was the final week of Basic Training.

His time at Parris Island was nearly finished.

He'd be graduating the day after tomorrow.

He was a Marine now, complete with a set of Dog-tags hanging from a chain around his neck.

He'd be graduating not as a Private or Private First Class like so many of his fellow Marines, but as a Lance Corporal.

Lance Corporal Samuel Winchester would be graduating the day after tomorrow with top honors.

He'd be graduating as the guide of his platoon and Company Honor Grad, 1st in his Class.

He'd be graduating as one of the best of the best.

Where as most of the Marines would be graduating in standard, military green uniforms, Sam's Graduation Uniform was blue.

He was actually doing this, he was actually graduating for Parris Island, not only with the title of Marine, but with high honors as well.

" Hey Sam, you alright man?" Came Rashad Mathers voice, effectively snapping Sam out of his dazed musings.

" Huh, oh, yeah, yeah, I'm okay man. Just tryin to wrap my head around the fact that, this is it for us here, y'know?" Answered Sam as he finished packing up his standard military issued duffle bag and set to work on tidying up the bed and nightstand.

" Yeah, I hear you man. After this, it's off to Camp Geiger for MCT and then after that, we off to war." Sighed Rashad as he too made a few final adjustments to his already immaculately made bed.

Sam gave a small grunt of acknowledgement before a small sigh escaped him.

" Right now, I'm more worried about surviving through tomorrow." Said Sam quietly.

" Since when is there any survival training necessary for Family Day man?" Asked Rashad.

Rashad froze the second the words left his mouth as he remembered what Sam had told them, all those weeks ago.

" Ah man, I'm sorry Sam, I forgot about your... yeah." Trailed off Rashad as he stared apologetically at the youngest Winchester.

Sam gave his friend a tired, sad smile and shook his head.

" Hey, how tomorrow's gonna be one hell of a shitty day for me is nobody's fault but mine." Sighed Sam as he took a step back to gaze over his immaculately made bed and night stand. He met Rashad's sad and concerned eyes with his own, his moss-green eyes were the way they usually were, calm and soulfull, with a small hint sadness.

As Sam looked around, he caught sight of a few other of his fellow Marines eyeing him from their own cots, Mark, Greg, and Mathew among them.

As he met there gazes, it warmed him to see that, there was no pity in his friends gazes, just understanding and something that looked suspiciously akin to quiet respect.

With one of his signature grins, Sam and his newly minted fellow Marines quickly put the finishing touches on the living quarters and Standard uniforms for The Battalion Commanders Inspection.

" COMPANY, ATTENTION!!!" Came the abrupt order from Sergeant Mike Goodman.

Instinctively, every single Marine in the barrack scrambled to the foot of his cot and stood to attention.

Just as Sam was about to quickly go stand at the foot of his own cot, he notice a small piece of lint sticking to the right shoulder of Rashad's uniform.

Sam's freakishly long limbs were a Godsend as he deftly reached out and snatched the offending article from his friend's uniform and manged to hide it away under his shoe as he made it to the foot of his cot and stood to attention. Out the corner of his eye, Sam caught Rashad's greatful gaze before they both looked ahead.

All the Marines of the barrack stood with feet together, arms held rigid to their sides, and their eyes glued front.

All in absolute silence so perfect, you'd be able to here a pin drop to the floor with perfect clarity.

Sam stood at the end of his cot and listened as Sergeant Goodman entered and began the slow, deliberate walk down the aisle in between the two rows of perfectly made cots, immaculate nightstands, and prestinely dressed new Marines.

Goodman proved that even with basic training coming to a close, he was still someone no one dared to be disrespectful to.

Goodman sporadically paused at certain individuals to inspect their uniforms or living areas.

And then, he finally reached the Marine standing at the very end of the right row.

Lance Corporal Sam Winchester.

Sergeant Mike Goodman bit back a smirk as he eyed the tall young Marine.

Oh yeah... It was time to grill the Company Honor Man.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 7

John Winchester let a small huff escape him as he pulled his jacket on over the simple navy blue button up shirt and grey t-shirt combo he was already wearing.

He turned and eyed his oldest son.

Dean was sitting at the foot of his single queen-sized motel bed, he sat watching the two-bit television with a really bad reception but, John could tell that his son's eye weren't wating anything on the screen.

He knew that Dean was thinking about something else, or rather, he was thinking about a certain someone else who'd been absent from his live for months now.

They were in Palo Alto after all, they'd gotten in during the night. They'd both had a less than restless night, filled with anxiety about the job and about a more personal matter weighing on both father and oldest son's minds.

Well, it was now or never.

John cleared his throat loudly, effectively snapping Dean out of his musing.

" Hey, I'm gonna head over to the house and talk to the family. You gonna stay here or are you gonna go out?" Asked John.

Dean blinked before he got to his feet and met his father's gaze.

" If you're gonna head over to the house, I'll go to the library, do some research or something." Said Dean with a forced shrug as he quickly retrieved his favorite leather jacket and pulled it on.

" Alright then, after you're done researching, call me, we can meet up at the diner for lunch." Said John gruffly.

Dean gave a nod of approval as they both grabbed up their individual sets of keys and headed out of the ratty motel room.

The bright, early afternoon sun bathed the two Hunters in it's warm light as each man headed to his vehicle.

Dean would be heading uptown to the central library.

John would be headed downtown to the suburbs where the unlucky house and family were.

A sleek black 1967 Chevy Impala went one way.

A powerful Ford Pick-up Truck went the other.

Both cars sped off in opposite directions, each going several traffic lights before they were effectively out of each other's line of sight.

They were both stopped at a red light when they both reached a quandary concerning the road they should take.

Keep going straight or... make a turn.

Make a turn and head for Stanford University.

Dean felt his heart wrench within his chest as he sat watching the red traffic light. His fingers drummed nervously as he was torn between the choices of which way to go, straight or take a right at would lead to what he thought was the one thing, the one person he wanted to see above all else was at.

Then, the light turned green and Dean made his decision, his father's wrath be damned.

The 1967 Chevy Impala made a smooth right turn and headed off down that road.

The road that led to Sammy, his beloved baby brother... or so he thought.

From where he sat in his Ford Pick-up opposited to the road Dean had previously been on, John Winchester let out a deep sigh as he felt the all too familiar sting of guilt and longing lance through his entire being. As he gripped the steering wheel hard enough to made his knuckles go white, he was torn between the choices of which way to go, straight or take a left that would lead to what he thought was his wayward baby son, the very son he himself had driven away that night a full three very long months ago.

Then, the light turned green and John made his decision, his own stubborn pride be damned.

The Ford Pick-Up truck made a smooth right turned and headed off down that road.

The road that led to Sammy, his youngest child... or so he thought.

Next stop... Stanford University.

Meanwhile, at Marine Corps Recruit Depot in Parris Island, South Carolina...

This was the day that Sam Winchester had been dreading above all other days here at Parris Island.

Family Day.

Sam knew that by the end of this day, his heart would not be left intact, he knew his heart was gonna be put through the shredder and what was left of it would be put through said shredder again for a second round.

But, he was a Marine now afterall, he'd survive. Albeit, with the bitter taste of sorrow on his soul.

Right now, he had to focus his mind on one thing.

Running at the head of his platoon for the five mile Motivational Run that passes by all four training battalions and the one support battalion.

" COMPANY MOVE OUT!!!" Came Lead Drill Sergeant Mike Goodman's booming voice.

With that, the graduating Marines of the First Training Battalion took off running, with Lance Corporal Samuel Winchester leading at the way.

As they ran behind the tall and formidable Company Honor Man, Rashad Mathers, Mathew Ruiz, Mark Twombly, Greg Roski, and several other men in the company couldn't help but feel their hearts go out to Sam as they watched him run ahead of them with his face set in stone. They were all wondering and worrying as to how their friend and fellow Marine was gonna survive this day. Hell, they were wondering how he was gonna get through the five mile run itself.

They would all be running with the happy faces of family and friends standing on the sidelinesm cheering them on as they passed by.

The others could only wonder what it felt like to know that there would be no one you knew standing amidst the many others in the happy crowd, knowing that your family wasn't their amidst the many other families. Knowing that on this day when after thirteen grueling weeks of training, you were finally able to see a familiar face...

They think your somewhere else, they don't know you're here. You're gonna be all alone.

The others could only wonder as to what their friend, Lance Corporal Sam Winchester was feeling like as they ran past the Battalions.

From where he was running at the front of the precisely lined up rows of running Marines, Sam kept his heart hard as he led his company around a corner and saw the mass crowd on either side of the sideway that had gathered. The people were waving and cheering joyously at them as they drew near.

As they ran past, many of the marines found the faces of their loved ones in the crowds, some waved back at a friend they hadn't seen in a real long time or smiled at their mothers when they caught sight of her.

Sam just kept his eyes front.

He didn't even bother looking.

All those happy faces, none were meant for him, not one.

He kept his eyes front because if he lingered on any one of the faces, he'd think Dean or John was standing their.

If he lingered on any faces, he knew his already crumbling heart would shatter.

It does not do to run miles with a broken heart.

He'd wait till after the run, maybe disappear somewhere and breakdown.

He really wanted to see his family.

He really, really, really wanted to see his big brother and his father.

Cause no matter what, he loved these two guys like crazy.

To be honest, even if the creature with yellow eyes hadn't threatened John and Dean in that dream, Sam would've still called Stanford and turned down the scholarship.

Sam would've stayed with his family.

That was what he always wanted, deep down.

Now don't get him wrong, he hated hunting the supernatural and moving around from place to place but, he'd live this kind of life without any complaint, because he had his dad, and he had Dean. They made thr hunting life bearable, they always made it bearable.

Now, as he kept running with his eyes front, Sam wished that he could actually tell Dean and his dad how he really felt. Sam wished he could tell them that, he lived only for them, he wanted to tell them he knew that normal was just an illusion. He wished he could tell them that, he'd never wanted an illusion, he just wanted to keep the world he knew. But above all, he just wanted to keep the both of them... his family akive. If that meant giving up any right to them, then so be it.

And so, Sam ran with his eyes glued front.

He didn't dare to look at any of the happy, smiling faces for the full five miles of the run.

He wished he could keep running but, after a good hour, the five miles were up and they were heading to the Parade Deck so that the graduating Marines of 2001 could finally be reunited with their families after thirteen weeks of separation.

Sam quietly stood to the side, partially hidden by the Felix De Weldon Statue of the Flag Raising on Iwo Jima, the same place where just a few days ago he'd sucessfully completed the Cruicible and earned the title of United States Marine, the same place where Sergeant Goodman had handed him his USMC Emblem and adressed him as a Marine for the first time.

Sam stood beside the statue and watched as his friends and fellow Marines as they were finally reunited with those they loved.

Rashad was grinning like a kid of Christmas as he hugged an elderly, who Sam immediately pegged as Grandma Rose, the lady he'd always talked about during meal times or while they were training.

Mathew Ruiz was twirling his girl around, the both of them smiling and laughing. Mat's girl was a pretty brunette, with a wonderful smile. Sam could see why every night, Mat would always brag about how lucky he was to have her. He could see why Mat had taped so many pictures of her all around his living space.

Mark Twombly stood with his baby son in his arms, he looked so happy to see the beautiful child. Big blue eyes and golden blonde hair that fell in small whisps around his head, this was Ryan. Mark always swelled with pride and love whenever he spoke of this tiny being, Sam could see why. Anyone would be proud of a baby that angelic. From where he stood, Sam couldn't help but wish John was here. It would've been nice.

Then Sam's eyes fell on Greg Roginski. It was then, that Sam felt his heart begin to shatter. His heart was shattering as he watched Greg with his older brother Danny. At the moment, Greg was in the midst of getting a noogy from Danny, the both of them grinning like idiots, oblivious to the young man, who's very soul was screaming in silent anguish as he watched them.

" Dean." Whispered Sam as he wrenched his eyes away from the happy siblings and screwed them as tightly shut as he could to fight back the tears. He bit into his lip to keep from wailing out his misery for the whole damn world to hear.

With a steadying breath, Sam battled back all of the emotions that were raging like a malestrom in his heart and regained enough of his composure to look like he was fine when he was the farthest from it.

Gathering his courage, Sam stepped out of his hiding spot and immediately heard his name being called.

" Hey Sam, get your butt over here man, I got a boatload of people for you to meet." Called out Rashad as he waved him over, a big, toothy grin plastered on his face.

Grinning the best he could, Sam waved back and quickly made his way over to Rashad and his family.

" Everyone, this is my buddy Sam Winchester, Lance Corporal and Company Honor Man to boot." Grinned Rashad as he wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders.

Sam felt his grin widen and his heart swell when he heard the pride in Rashad's voice as he'd introduced him.

At least he could be happy for everyone else.

He could be happy for all of his fellow Marines who did have their family.

He'd be happy for everyone else, he'd keep up the facade, palster a smile onto his face.

But, once he was alone, he knew he was gonna shatter into a million pieces.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 8

Dean Winchester felt his stomach twist and tie itself into several uncomfortable knots where he sat behind the wheel of a now safely parked Impala.

He was parked, right across the street from Stanford University.

He was parked across the street from his Sammy. (Yeah right)

From where he sat, Dean was torn between turning the car back on and high-tailing it out of their or mustering up enough courage to get out of the car and walk through the doors of the main entrance and finally see the brother he'd been missing with all his heart for three very, very long months.

Inhaling and exhaling slowly to steady his jittery nerves, Dean chose the latter. He willed his hand to open the driver's side door and climbed out.

Dean walked with his head slightly bowed and his eyes mostly to the pavement because his nerves were not cooperating, and his flight response was rearing its ugly head higher with each step he took.

He was so busy, trying to keep himself from running away in such a UnDean Winchester like fashion, he didn't even notice he was on the path towards a head long collision with another person until it was too late.

Dean and the other guy crashed into each other, hard enough to have them both momentarily too stunned to do or say anything but, once the power of speech returned to them they both spoke at the same time.

" Dude, watch where you're goin!"

Then, both men froze.

Dean's eyes grew wide as he found himself staring back at... his equally stunned Dad.

John's eyes grew just as wide as he gawked at his oldest son's stunned visage.

At that particular moment, one thought shot through the minds of both father and oldest son.

"Uh-Oh... **BUSTED, with a Capitol B!!!**"

There was an awkward silence as both men continued to simply gawk at one another, before a knowing look spread across John's face as his entired posture relaxed and he spoke.

" Fancy meeting you here." He said, with the ghost of a smile painting his lips.

" Could say the same for you Pops." Sighed Dean as he too deflated and sent his father a humorless smirk.

There was another pause.

With a small sigh and a tiny smile, John jerked his head towards the waiting entrance doors.

Dean gave a mute nod and followed after his father as they both took the final steps to what they thought would be a reunion with their youngest.

Once the two of them were across the threshold, they made they way over to the front desk where a security gaurd was seated.

" Good Morning." Said the guard, an African American woman in her late thirties.

" Morning, umm... We're here to see a student." Said Dean, deciding to do all the talking.

The guard nodded and turned to the computer monitor and key board to her right.

" Can I have the name please?" She asked.

" Sam, Sam Winchester." Answered John before Dean could say anything.

Dean sent his father a knowing look, which John refused to meet, instead, focusing his gaze solely on the Guard, who was typing Sammy's name into the search engine.

Dean too, shifted his gaze to the Guard and waited expectantly.

Then, both John and Dean watched as the Guard's brow knitted in confusion and she looked at the screen.

She typed in Sam's name again and got the same result.

The Guard turned her eyes back on the two men standing before her desk and spoke.

" I'm sorry sir but, there's no one by that name registered here and a student."

There was stunned silence before Dean leaned forward and spoke.

" Wait a minute, what do you mean?" He asked, his protective instincts instantly kicking in.

" I mean that, there is no one named Sam Winchester currently attending this University. I've checked twice, there's no one." Shrugged the Guard, a helpless look in her eyes.

" Miss, that can't be right, Sam's my youngest son and this was where he said he'd be going, on a full scholarship." Said John as he to stepped closer to the security guard's desk.

Both Dean and John were now at full alert, their hearts begining to hammer within their chests.

The Guard was in slight awe as she watched the two men before her switch from somewhat nervous and unsure to fiercely protective and determined.

" Well, I don't know what else to tell you but what the computer shows me, I entered the name into the search and the database has no record of a Sam Winchester ever registered as a student here at Stanford." Said the Guard with a shrug.

It was then, that she saw the begins of fear within the eyes of the two Winchesters and she decided to help them out the only other way she could think of.

" Maybe the Dean of Admissions can give answers because I've done all I can. Wait here, I'm gonna call an RA who can take you to his office."

Dean and John both nodded and stepped back from the desk while the woman quickly got on the phone to make the call.

" Dad, what the hell's goin on here?" Asked Dean as he looked at John, he was using all his will to battle back the urge to panic.

" I don't know Dean but, we'll get to the bottom of this, maybe it was just a computer glitch or something. Let's just keep our heads on straight." Said John sternly to Dean while _he_ himself was trying to believe these words, his own words.

There was a tense, ten minute wait for the two oldest Winchester's before the Guard caught sight of a familiar face.

" Guys, here comes the RA." Said the Guard. Dean and John followed the woman's gaze and stopped when their eyes fell on the tall, very pretty young blonde girl who was walking up to them.

" Hi, I'm Jessica, what can I help you with?" Asked Jessica Lee Moore as she eyed the two anxious, scruffy looking men.

Dean and John were both about to answer when the Guard beat them to the punch.

" These two gentlemen need to see the Dean of Admissions, they're here looking for someone and he's not showing up on my database. Maybe Mr. Parker can find him and sort things out." Said the Guard.

Jessica nodded before she turned to Dean and John.

" Follow me then, I'll take you the Admissions office, Mr. Parker should be in right now."

Dean and John both nodded and followed the blonde.

The trio walked in silence before Jessica glanced over her shoulder at the two men in her company and spoke.

" So, who're you lookin for?" She asked.

" Huh? Oh!, Well... We're looking for my youngest son, Sam. He was accepted here and me and my older son Dean here, we just wanted to come by and see him." Said John quietly as his mind drifted to the memories of that horrible night three whol months ago when he'd driven his youngest child away with his harsh words and ultimatums.

John felt his heart twinge for a moment as his mind's eyes pictured Sam's face after John had finished screaming at him that if he walked out that door, he'd never be allowed to come back.

It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

" That's so sweet, you guys must love him to death." Said Jessica with a beaming smile that Dean couldn't help but smile back at, even with how nervous he was.

If he wasn't so worried about finding Sam, he'd be having a go at this girl.

She was a knock-out after all.

Dean quickly got his mind out of the gutter and spoke.

" You kiddin', the kid's a major pain in the ass."

Jessica let out a small chuckle before she led them around a corner and them finally stopped at a door on the right.

" Alright, here's the office, just go in and knock on the door at the other side of the roo, that has the name Harold Parker stenciled on it." Said Jessica as she pointed inside.

The two Winchesters thanked the blonde and quickly ducked into the office.

True to Jessica's word, the two of them all but ran to the door that had the words

**Dean of Admissions- Harold Parker**

John knocked on the door with barely restrained urgency and after what seemed like a full decade, the door opened to reveal a mildly confused looking man with wire-rimmed glasses and dirty blonde hair.

" Yes, can I help you gentlemen?" Asked Harold Parker as his eyes traveled from one man to the other.

" Yeah, we're looking for a student and the Guard at the front desk had a small problem so, she told us to come here." Said Dean.

Parker paused a moment to process this before he nodded and stepped aside and spoke.

" Come in, I'll see what I can do."

" Thank you." Said John.

" Thanks." Said Dean.

The two of them quickly walked into Parker's office and took their seats in the two chairs in front of the desk.

Dean bit back the urge to yell at Parker to get his ass moving faster as he watched the man walk around to the other side of his desk and sat down.

" Alright, who are you looking for, I can look it up in our records." Said Parker as his hands moved to the keyboard of his computer.

" We're looking for Sam Winchester. He should be a freshmen here." Said John, the anxiety clear in his voice.

Parker's fingers worked the keyboard and typed in the name, all the while having this weird sense that the name Sam Winchester was vaguely familiar for to him some reason.

Dean and John waited with bated breath and hammering hearts as they watched every move Harold Parker made.

They paid careful attention the man's face and after several tense, silent minutes, much to their chagrin, Parker's face mirrored that of the Security Guard's, in that the man's brow knitted and he didn't look triumphant.

" No... No, I'm sorry but, their is no student registered here by the name of Sam Winchester."

Their was another stunned pause before Dean broke the silence, his big brother instincts kicking into high gear.

" That can't be right, Sam has to be here, he showed us both the acceptance letter, he said got a full-ride to this place, he... he walked out the door three months ago man!" Said Dean loudly as John put a restraining hand on his shoulder, the two of them stared hard at Parker.

The second Dean's words registered, all the buried memories of a phone call five months earlier came flooding back to Harold Parker.

There was astonishment for a moment before Harold met the hard gazes directed at him with a wide and bewildered stare of his own as he spoke.

" Guys... Sam isn't here, he called me two months before the fall semester was gonna start, he turned down his admittance. He called and told be that he couldn't attend and to give his scholarship to someone else."

In that moment among the millions and billions of moments in time, the world came to a screeching halt and stayed that way as Parker's words registered in the minds of a father and a big brother.

Cold dred tingled it's way up Dean and John Winchester's spines as they gawked at the man behind the desk.

John is the first to regain his voice and even then, it's not working right.

" What... What are you saying?"

" I'm saying that, your son's not here, he hasn't been here... ever."

The next moments blurred and faded away for Dean.

When his mind came back to him, Dean realised he was running beside his father out the doors of Stanford and into the afternoon sun drenched sidewalk of Palo Alto.

" Dad, what the hell's goin on? Where's Sammy?" Asked Dean.

John stopped in his running to face his oldest son's very confused and expectant face. He could also see the small traces of fear within his child'd expression, it most likely mirrored his own for in his heart, John Winchester was scared, hell, he was terrified.

His baby boy was missing.

" I don't know Dean, I don't know. The only thing I do know is that we have to find him cause he lied to us about coming here, he's out their somewhere. We gotta find him. Now, get in your car and head back to the motel. We got call everyone we know as see if anyone's seen your brother or knows where Sammy is." Said John as he took off running.

" Yes Sir." Called Dean as he took off running till he all but dove into the Impala and gunned the engine, following after his Dad's Truck.

They had to find his baby brother, his Sammy.

As they drove, there was only one single thought running through both Dean and John's minds.

_" Where are you Sammy?" _


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 9

Lance Corporal Sam Winchester blinked away the last remnants of sleep and hoisted himself up to sit over the side of his cot.

Around him, everyone else still slept because Dawn had yet to break over the horizon and would do so for a good hour and a half.

As his mind cleared, realisation dawned on Sam.

Today was Friday, the first day of December.

Today was Graduation Day.

Holy Mary Mother of God...

This was it, this was the day he and all of his fellow new Marines had been working themselves to the very roots of their bones for.

A shaky breath escaped Sam as his mind tried to fathom the milestone in his life.

A milestone he'd be experiencing... without his family.

Sam felt his heart wrench itself within the confines of his chest, a deep, incurable agony settling over him.

He knew that, there would be no one there for him at the Ceremony, there would be no one to take him home afterwards, Hell... there was no home to go back to.

There would be no Dean and no Dad, cheering for him out there in the stands amidst the other families, all the other people who'd be there to cheer on their Marines.

_Their_ Marines.

He was no one's Marine on this day.

He was gonna be graduating as a Lance Corporal, Company Honor Man, he was gonna be graduating with the highest honors out of hundreds of other new Marines.

He was gonna graduate today, with no one there to tell him they were proud of him and all that he'd accomplished.

There'd be no one there... for _him_ and_ him_ alone.

He was no one's Marine on this day.

He could only blame himself and the creature with yellow eyes for this festering and still bleeding wound on his heart.

He blamed himself because he'd lied to Dean and John about where he was really going, he'd deceived them to get them as far away from him as he could. But, what he'd never forgive himself for, was how badly he'd hurt Dean, and his Father that horrible night he'd walked out the door with the echoes of words he never meant still wafting through the air. A night that seemed to be a life-time ago for him now.

He blamed the Yellow eyed Thing because the deception had all been comitted because of him and what he'd revealed in that nightmare that was always in the back of Sam's mind. That Yellow Eyed Creature had threatened the only two people who ever mattered to him. That Creature, that Demon or whatever it was had threatened to pin both his father and his brother to the ceiling, gut them, and then burn them alive... Just like he'd done to Mary Winchester, the mother and loving wife who'd already been robbed from the three of them.

That Evil Creature's words still rung crystal clear through Sam's mind whenever he'd inevitably dwell on the memories of that Hellish night in the dream world. That mocking, gravelly voice still haunted him, even now.

_" Now now Sammyboy, take it easy, no need to flip a disc."_

_" Just like Mommy." _

_" This is all your fault Sammyboy. I'm gonna kill them, just like I killed your mommy. All for you."_

Sam quickly shook himself from his thoughts and got out of bed. He reached into his duffle for a change of clothes, basically a fresh pair of underwear, a fresh green T, and a pair of standard Camoflauge cargo pants. Using his sharp, cat-like stealth, Sam made his way down the long aisle between the two prestinely straight rows of his still slumbering Platoon of fellow graduating Marines on their cots, that lined the to long opposite walls of the Barracks.

Sam quietly made his way to the showers and grabbed a towel before quickly stripping off the standard issued green T-shirt and shorts he'd slept in before ducking into one of the stalls.

The morning quiet was marred when the sounds of a shower being turned on and water cascade from the showerhead pierced the air.

Thankfully, it wasn't enough noise to wake anyone else up.

The luke warm water was soothing and welcome as it cascaded over Sam's now very muscular and tanned body.

At the begining of Boot Camp when he'd first set foot on Parris Island's famous Yellow Footprints, Sam had been in good shape, tall and lean if also a little pale in skin tone.

After thirteen weeks of non-stop drills, weapons training, marching, and all other forms of basic training, all executed outside in the South Carolina sun, Sam Winchester was in peak physical condition by Marine Standards. Tall, muscular, with a golden tint to his skin, those who knew him would hardly be able recognize him if they were to see him.

After Graduation, he and his fellow new Marines would be off to Camp Geiger for Marine Combat Training and then he'd be assigned his Military Occupational Specialty (MOS) and designated to receive the proper training.

On top of all that, Lance Corporal Samuel Winchester was just eighteen years old.

He'd be turning nineteen in May.

By then, he'd most likely be on the front lines of where ever it was he'd be stationed, well into his first tour of duty as an active Marine, ready for combat.

As the water cascaded over his newly trimmed military crew cut, much to his chagrin, Sam felt the all to familiar burn behind his eyes coupled with a dull throbbing in his chest.

Before he could stop it, a small, strangled sob escaped Sam's throat.

Sam used every ounce of his will, not to stop himself from giving in to three whole months of anguish, but to keep the sounds of his despair to a bare minimal as he allowed himself to finally, finally breakdown a little.

Silent, full wracking sobs tore through Sam's whole body as he stood under the shower spray, which thankfully drowned out the sounds Sam couldn't stifle.

He's reasons for trying to still keep a semblance of contol was simple really.

He didn't want to rob any of his fellow new Marines of sleep and, he was a Marine, Company Honor Man for Christ's sake, he couldn't show any signs of weakness. Most of all, he couldn't be selfish enough to let his misery ruin this very important day for everyone else.

This was Graduation Day after all.

He'd be happy, he'd be satisfied with just making it all the way through basic training and Graduating for Parris Island today.

Sam allowed himself to indulge in crying and giving in to despair for the whole of a good five minutes before quickly pulled himself together and finished showering, shampoo, soap, the works.

After a good ten minutes of scrubbing and washing, Sam finally turned off the water and stepped out of the shower stall.

Sam quickly dried himself off, most likey setting a new world record in dressing one's self as he pulled on his underwear, pants, and shirt very rapidly.

Once fully dressed, Sam quietly made his way back to his cot. Sam sat down over the side of the cot and reached over to the nightstands, his long fingers seeking out the chain that held his Dog-Tags.

He slipped the chain over his neck, the metal was cool against his freshly showered skin. The metal tags that bore his surname, his given name, blood group, social security number, the letters USMC, gas mask size, and religious preference.

He put himself down as Christian. Even though his family wasn't big on praying, Sam would always remember a few of the prayers Pastor Jim had taught him while he and Dean were growing up.

His prayers were never for himself though. They'd always be for the two people he'd given up all right to by deceiving them.

A small sigh escaped Sam, he wasn't gonna start bawling his eyes out again or anything like that, he just felt real low and lousy right now.

Outside, the sun was slowly begining to chase away the dark, murky blackness that filled the skies, bringing the light of a new day.

As deep, moss-green eyes stared out the window at the slowly illuminating horizon, they took a moment to gaze at the beauty of a new morning being painted across the sky before Sam's gaze shifted to something else.

There, folded neatly and with immaculate percision on top of the metal trunk that stood at the foot of Sam's cot was a United States Marine dress uniform comprised of deep, navy blue, bright red, and stark white.

The colors of an Honor Graduate.

The colors of a Lance Corporal among the many Privates and Private First Classes.

Sam let another sigh escape him, he still had an hour to kill before everyone else would start waking up.

Sam pushed himself backward till his back was pressed against the wall the head-rail of his cot was up against. His long arm reached down to the duffle bag that rested at the foot of the nightstand and shuffled through the contents of the bag until he found the journal he'd been keeping since he'd first arrived at Parris Island.

The book was almost full now, filled with recounts of his days here as a recruit and how he felt about the training, stories of his buddies and their funny antics when the training was done with for the day, events that had passed, like the first night at Parris Island, the ending cermonies of The Crucible and Family Day, and just his thoughts. Also within the pages of Sam's journal were letters to Dean, to his Dad, even a few to the mother he couldn't remember. They were letters he didn't have the means of courage to send, letters he'd never receive answers to; maybe he just wrote them for himself.

From where he reclined and waited for the morning wake-up call, Sam began to write into the last blank page that was left, another letter to both Dean and John, the final entry in this journal. He'd have to get himself another one when he had the time.

_December 1, 2001_

_Dear Dean and Dad, _

_Well, this is it, today's the day. We're finally graduating after thirteen straight weeks of Hell on Earth. _

_To be honest, I actually enjoyed myself through out all those weeks. _

_Who'd have thought that was possible after all the crap that came out of my mouth that night about being sick of hunting, of moving around all the time, of being a soldier? _

_Like I just said, all the stuff I said that night, I didn't mean any of it, in fact, I was just fine with the life I had, the life we had. _

_We were together, we were hunting things and saving people, " The Family Business" as it were. _

_But most of all, we were together. _

_The both of you most likely hate me for screwing all that up when I left. _

_You know, in my other letters to you guys, I never give you the real reason why I left, I just tell you how I'm doing, how I'm feeling, and I'm always telling you I'm sorry for hurting you both and for being such an ass those months leading up to the night I left. _

_Well, seeing as to how this is the last entry in this journal, I may as well tell you now._

_The reason why I left wasn't for a stupid dream of a normal life, I left because the thing that killed mom, that took her from us all, threatened to take the both of you too. He threatened to take the both of you from me_

_He showed it to me in a dream one night, I was sixteen at the time. _

_He was actually in my head. _

_He is evil, he is a shadowy creature with Yellow Eyes. __I think he could be a demon, a very, very powerful one, but I can't be sure. _

_He showed me what he would have done to you and to Dad. _

_He would've pinned you both to the ceiling, ripped your stomachs open, and then burned you alive. _

_Like he did to Mom. _

_It's my fault Mom died, that Yellow Eyed thing was after me, Mom got in his way and he killed her because of it. _

_All of this is my fault. _

_This life of hunting, of killing things that people only think of in dreams, this unquenchable thirst for vengeance, us not having a home. It's all my fault. _

_You guys lost mom because of me. _

_It's my fault Mom died. _

_I left because I'd be damned if you guys lost your lives because of me too. I can't allow it. I could never allow that to ever happen._

_If that thing wants me, he can try with all his might to take me but, I will not risk the both of you. You're better off without, you're safer. _

_I know the both of you were angry at me for leaving you when you needed me, you'll most likely be even more furious when you find out I lied to you about where I was really going that night. _

_I hope the both of you can find it in your hearts to forgive me for everything I did, for hurting you both but, you can stay mad at me too Hell, you can stay mad at me forever if that's what you want, I probably deserve it, all of it. _

_I just want the both of you to know that I am so sorry, for everything. _

_I love you Dean. _

_I love you Dad. _

_The both of you are the most important people in my life, you're the best things in my life and you always will be._

_That will never change. Ever. _

_I hope I'll see you again someday._

_I hope with everything that I have. _

_**Your Sammy.**_

Sam stopped writting as he finished his last letter to his family, in the last page of his journal.

To his satisfaction, he'd managed to write everything down without shedding a single drop of salt.

In fact, once he'd set his ball-point pen down, he felt strangely liberated, like little bit of the weight in his heart had been lifted.

He had in a manner, told Dean and his Dad the secret he'd been harboring since that night when he was sixteen and had that horrible dream.

He felt, lighter, somewhat free.

It was a good thing because he'd wallowed in more than enough misery.

Now it was time to be totally Pyched-out about Graduation.

The sun was up now, it's golden light seeping in through the windows of the barracks, illuminating that which was once painted in darkness, revealing the faces of the young men who would on this day, become official members of the USMC.

Lance Corporal Samuel Winchester found a small smile tugging at his lips as he now chose to ignore his own sorrow and watch as his friends and fellow graduating Marines began to wake up to greet the new morning of what would most definetly be one of the happiest days of their entire lives.

Sam tucked away his now completed journal back into his duffle before he turned his attention to a still groggy Rashad Mathers.

" Hey wake up, it's Graduation Day man, look alive!"


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 10

The mess hall was alive and roaring with the many excited voices of graduating Marines as they all had breakfast.

Many were too excited and somewhat nervous to actually want to eat anything but, the took a few bites of whatever they'd taken on their food trays.

Lance Corporal Sam Winchester sat with a few members of his platoon, Rashad, Mark, Mathew, and Greg among them.

They were all laughing and joking around.

Sam was grinning from ear to ear, one of his signature mega-watt grins that had a contagious power to it as it caused the others around him to smile and laugh just as hard.

" Man, today is gonna be fantastic!" Grinned Rashad.

" Oh yeah, after this we are gonna be full Marines. Can you believe it?" Asked Greg to everyone.

" Just think, after this we finally get to go home for a while." Grinned Mathew.

However, the Mathew's grin faltered when his eyes fell on Sam and saw the brief flash of that bone-deep sadness that had always plagued the youngest Winchester in all the time they'd all known him here at Parris Island.

It dimmed the famous mega-watt grin.

Just as Mathew's grin faltered, it started a chain-reaction of other grins faltering, much to Sam's quiet exasperation and guilt as more eyes fell on him.

" Ah c'mon guys, don't do that. I'm gonna be fine after today, honest. Don't worry about me." Sighed Sam with a dismissive wave of his hand.

" Sam man, c'mon. How do you expect us to not feel bad about you not havin' anybody coming to pick you up and take you home for a little while?" Asked Greg.

At this, Sam eyes lit up with a stubborn but quiet strength, bright fire from within that had everyone feeling chills or awe.

His voice was deep and serious, sounding decades older that the eighteen years he really was as he spoke.

" What I expect for you guys to do is to hold your heads high and be happy and proud out there during the ceremony. What I don't expect and don't want is any of you to feel bad for me, I ain't worth that. You guys have more important things to think about, like your formation steps. Other than that, I just expect all of us to be proud to call ourselves Marines after today. That is all I expect."

There was a resonating silence before Sam spoke again.

" God, I sound like Oprah and Sarg put together. Danggit." He mumbled, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

The seriousness that had hardened Sam's moss-green eyes was instantly replaced by an innocent mischeif undimmed by time as he stared at his fellow graduating Marines.

The deathly silence that had settled over the table was instantly shattered by the hearty laughter that erupted from everyone else.

Sam's face finally broke out into a goofy grin as he rejoined in the laughing.

But, from where they sat, Rashad, Greg, Mathew, and Mark couldn't help but still gaze at their friend with a little sadness.

They all had one silent thought running thorugh their minds.

_How could Sam feel that he wasn't worth feeling anything over, to them of all people. _

And so, the newest plethora of graduating Marines tucked in to breakfast until their Drill Sergeants descended on them and started barking at them to move their asses and get ready for one final rehearsal before they had to get ready for the afternoon Graduation Ceremony itself.

They had all been rehearsing and drilling themselves to the very bone this last week at Parris Island. Not only did they have to look good, they had to make their Drill Sergeants proud.

Everyone in Sam's platoon especially wanted to make Head Drill Sergeant Mike Goodman proud to be their Sergeant.

Once they were done with rehearsal everyone all but ran back to their barracks to get dressed and ready.

There was absolute order as the showers were rotated so that everyone could get a turn.

Sam made his short and efficient seeing as to how this was his second shower of the day, he was in and out in under fifteen minutes, much to the silent appreciation of the other Marines.

Sam quickly made his way to his cot and began to get dressed in his " Dress Blues."

Sam started with his black socks and white under garments before he pulled on the sky blue trousers with a scarlet stripe, " The Blood Stripe" as it was called, running down the outer side of each pants leg. A simple black leather belt held them firmly in place around the waist.

Once that was done, Sam sat down on the edge of his neatly made cot and started putting his prestinely polished black dress shoes on. He tied them tightly and once that was done, the neatly tied bows were hidden away from view under the ends of Sam's pant legs.

Next came the signature form fitting blue coat with scarlet lines around the standing collar, a single line across each shoulder, one down the left jacket wing, at the end of each sleeve and around the entire hem. Six gold colored buttons with the USMC emblem embosed into them neatly lined the right side of the jacket with the matching slots of the left side that also had the scarlet strip. the coat also had several marksmanship medals pinned to the left side of the chest, above the left pocket.

A small testimate to Sam's abilities as a deadly marksmen.

On either sleeve of the coat was the rank insignia of Lance Corporal, a single pointed and curved arch and two crossed rifles beneath it, in gold against a bright red outlining background with a rounded bottom. ( For a visual, go to Google Images and type in USMC Rank Insignia.)

Sam carefully pulled the coat on and began doing up the buttons, his eyes were focused in himself in one of the standing mirrors that had been put in the barracks while they'd been having breakfast and rehearsing their marches and steps.

Long, gracefull fingers never once faltered as they gently pushed gold buttons through their proper slots within the deep, Navy blue fabric.

One... Two... Three... Four... Five... and finally, the sixth and final gold button at the base of the standing collar.

Even with his back turned to everyone else, he knew there were eyes watching him, taking in the sight of him.

After all, he was the only " Man in Blues" amidst a sea of standard Military Green in this barrack.

From where they stood their cots on both sides of the Lance Corporal's, Greg and Rashad could help but agree that, Sam looked pretty good in blue.

The two of them immediately went back to dressing themselves the second Sam turned around from checking himself in the mirror and straightening out his coat to retrieve the next article of his uniform, a white web-belt with a gold plait bluckle, this too bearing the USMC Emblem.

Sam looped the belt around his mid-section and carefully did the buckle so that it rested firmly against his jacket, about an inch bellow the last gold button.

Sam fiddled with it until it was perfectly straight.

The second to last articles of his uniform were a pair of white gloves that stopped at the wrist. Thankfully, they were big enough to snuggly cover Sam's large hands. He pulled one onto his right hand first and hid the ends under his coat sleeve before he repeated the action with his left hand.

Now, there was only one item left.

The Cover.

The signature flat, circular white hat with a shiny black flap to sheild the eyes from the sun's rays, it was surmmounted by the USMC Emblem in gold, perfectly centered on the front.

Sam carefully picked up the that article of his uniform and gently put it on, the white cap covered the " Jarhead" haircut Sam's once long, chocolate brown hair was currently in, cut to military percision.

With a few tweeks and adjustments, the hat was now firmly on top of Sam's head.

That was it, he was done getting into his uniform.

God, if Dean was here, his big brother would most likely laugh at him and pop a snarky joke about how big his ears looked at how closely he resembled an action figure.

To be honest, Sam would've actually liked that, he'd have liked to have Dean and his Dad here today to see him Graduate with top honors.

As he stared at himself in the mirror, Sam couldn't help but think about his father, John Winchester.

What would his Dad think if he knew?

Would he be proud of his Honor Graduate son?

Or, would he and Dean be hopping made furious at him and drag him out of here kicking and screaming, regardless of all he'd accomplished, regardless of it being Graduation day?

Well, Sam would never know what his family would've done because they didn't know he was here, they didn't know today was his Graduation, they didn't know he was gonna soon be off to war.

They didn't know. That was the solid, undeniable truth that sat like a weight over Lance Corporal Samuel Winchester.

" Aww Danggit!"

The sound of Mark Twombly's voice, loud and frustrated caught Sam's attention and effectively broke Sam out of his melacholy thoughts.

The now fully and immaculately dress Graduating Marine turned around, his mos-green eyes falling on Mark where he stood on the opposite side of the barrack, standing by the cot directly across from Sam's.

Mark was so focused on trying to do his belt up correctly with nervously shaking hands and failing miserably, he didn't notice a certain tall, fully garbed in his Dress blues Buddy of his walk over and come to stand right before him.

" Need some help their Twombly?" Asked Sam, his voice deep and laced with quiet amusement as he watched Mark jump back, startled as he stared at Sam with wide eyes.

" Jeez Winchester, why you always have to sneak up on a guy, especially when he's tryin' to get dressed in time for his graduation." Said Mark as he sent a mock glare Sam's way.

It was a well known fact that Sam had a love for sneaking up on all of them. It always blew their minds that a guy Sam's height and size could be so silent and fast.

Sam merely grinned in that famous way of his before he promptly reached out and took the two ends of Mark's belt from the other mans hands and with a quiet, confident ease, did the buckle up and tightened the belt so that it was firmly and perfectly centered around his friend.

" Thank you Mommy Dearest." Grumbled Mark, a good natured smirk plastered across his face.

" Shut up, at least I know how to do up a belt correctly." Grumbled back Sam with a mock-sneer.

There was a beat of silence before the two friends broke out into harty chuckles.

When the chuckling subsided, Sam gave Mark's arm a brotherly punch.

" Why're you so nervous for man, this is nothin' "

" Oh, well excuse me Mister Nerves of Steel Company Honor Man. This is big, man. This is huge, am I not allowed to have my freak out moment?" Asked Mark, sounding like a mad hair-stylist.

Sam was silent, as though he were pondering the answer to the question asked. He even looked like he was putting a great deal of thought into it.

Then, the tall Lance Corporal leaned forward until he was eye to eye with Mark, who was a good foot shorter then him.

Their was silence, Mark shifted uncomfortably under the cool and calm, moss green gaze before Sam finally spoke.

" No. You're not."

The two Marines stared at each other, dead-panned before Sam's eyes softened and with a snort, he walked off, leaving Mark stunned in his wake. The astonishment was quickly replaced with a cheeky grin and a quiet chuckle as the PFC went back to getting ready.

Sam headed out of the barracks, breathing in the crisp fresh air of the late morning.

As he stood before the open grounds of Parris Island, Sam could just see the Parade Deck where the ceremony would soon be underway.

He himself, would be at the very forefront. After all, he was Company Honor Man of his platoon, he'd be leading the way carry a red guidon flag with the platoon number in gold.

Just half an hour till show time.

A sigh escaped Sam as once again, he felt the familiar, inescapable longing that had never left him since that night so long ago.

" Dean, Dad. I really wish you guys were here." He wispered to the wind.

It was an impossible wish.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 11

" You have come a long way. I am extremely proud of each of you and salute all pf you for everything you have achieved here in your training. As you prepare to depart Parris Island, allow me to offer you this simple advice. Always remember who you are, what you are, and, most importantly, what you have the potential to become. I wish you good luck, Godspeed, and _Semper Fidelis_."

The voice of the Battalion Commander's voice rang over the speaker system, amplifying it so that all who stood on the Parade Deck and all who stood in the stands could here him.

" Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the newest Marines of our Corps."

The massive crowd that occupied the stands let loose a thunderous roar as they cheered for the graduating class of 2001.

From where he stood tall and silent, as was required for everyone until they were formally dismissed, Sam felt both exhileration and melancholy.

He did it, he was a full Marine after today.

He was a Lance Corporal in the USMC.

He'd just graduated with high honors from Marine Corps Recruit Depot in Parris Island, South Carolina.

But, just as there was joy filling his heart, there was also sorrow, and anxiety.

His family wasn't among those in the stands. His father and big brother were either working a job concerning the Supernatural or they found out he wasn't attending Stanford and were turning the whole of the United States of America upside down looking for him.

Sam couldn't help but secretly hope they never found him, he'd survived thirteen weeks of Basic Training, he taken hell from his Drill Sergeants without so much as a whisper protect or complaint, endless days and nights spent studying and learning about the USMC, he'd passed every test through at him and yet...

He didn't think he would be able to survive the wrath of Dean or the wrath of John Winchester if they ever did find out that their little Sammy became a Marine and was gonna be off to fight in the newly declared war following the 9/11 Terror attacks that had punched a devastating hole in the New York City skyline.

Dean and John would both be furious... and terrified.

And with good reason, people go to war, not all of them come back, not all of them come home.

On top of all that, he was stuck here at Parris Island because no one had come for him. Hell, nobody knew they had to come to pick him up.

Crap. Just crap.

Sam quickly banished those thoughts of what the future held in store for him, for all of his fellow Marines as he watched Head Drill Sergeant Mike Goodman step forward.

Sergeant Goodman took a moment to gaze upon the faces of all the fine young men who were now memberes of the U.S. Marine Corp.

The Sergeant's eyes stopped when they fell on the tall, young Lance Corporal standing at the head of the first platoon.

Goodman's eyes lingered on Sam for a few moments before he turned his gaze forward.

After thirteen weeks spent training and guiding all of these now Graduated young Marines, it was time for Goodman to give his final order as the Head Drill Sergeant of this entire company.

Goodman inhaled deeply and on the exhale, his voice boomed.

" DISMISSED!!!"

There was silence for a split second before the five hundred plus voices, including a certain Lance Corporal's all rose up as one in a thunderous roar.

" OORAH!!!"

This thunderous roar was quickly followed by the happy cheers, claps, and yells of all the people in the stands.

As they all broke formation and headed for the stands, Sam had it in mind to quietly slip away and head back to barracks or go somewhere quiet and be alone.

He was about to take the first step away from all the joyful families reuniting when a firm, solid hand wrapped around his right arm in a vice-like grip.

Sam turned his head and found himself face to face with the visage of a very determined and serious looking Rashad Mathers. There was a knowing look in Rashad's eyes, as well as sadness as the PFC began to pull Lance Corporal Winchester with him towards the waiting Mathers family.

" C'mon, Grandma Rose wants to see us both." Said Rashad, carefully not meeting Sam's eyes.

Sam was silent for a moment as he battled back the all too familiar burn of tears behind his eyes. He cleared his contricting throat before he spoke.

" Well then, we can't keep her waiting now, can we?"

Rashad nodded and gave Sam's arm a small squeeze before letting go as the two newly Graduated Marines were surrounded by the Mathers family.

While Rashad went off to hug his Grandmother, the other members of his family all doted over Sam, smiling, taking pictures, giving him hugs and pats on the back, just showering him with some much needed love.

Eventhough they'd only met the youngest Winchester yesterday on Family Day, they'd all instantly taken a shine to the quiet, respectful, if somewhat sad young man. On top of that it wasn't very hard for all the women in Rashad's family to fall in love with the famous dimpled smile and those deep, moss-green eyes.

Rashad had filled them in on the real reason why Sam was without his family, they kept silent but, they'd all collectively agreed to be family to this lone young Marine.

Then, Grandma Rose slowly made her way over to the group that had been surrounding Sam, with Rashad's arm wrapped around her for extra support.

The group around Sam parted and made way for the elderly matriarch of their family as she slowly came into their midsts.

Sam took a slow, almost hesitant step to meet Grandma Rose halfway.

Sam stood tall and silent as Rose looked him over with a serious eye. The old woman took another step, gently shrugging off Rashad's arm from her shoulders as her gnarled hands reached out till they came to light rest over Sam's chest. Silently, these weathered hands lightly grazed over the Lance Corporal's uniform. There was this serene look on Grandma Rose's face as she did this, before her weathered hands traveled upwards, moving to hold Sam's face.

Sam leaned down to make this action easier for the elderly lady.

The youngest Winchester smiled softly as he leaned in to the warm, gentle touch.

" Do I have your approval Ma'am?" Asked Sam softly, breaking the silence as one of his hands gently snaked up to cover one of Grandma Rose's where it was holding one of his cheeks.

The serene look on the old one's face changed into a huge grin that lit up her weathered and wrinkly face as she too spoke for the first time.

" Come here Child." Came the Grandmother's soft, slightly shaky voice as she gently pulled Sam into a hug.

Sam went willingly into Grandma Rose's embrace, gently wrapping his own arms around the old woman, careful that his grasp was not too tight as to cause pain to here frail form.

" Of course you have my approval. I'm very proud of you, so very proud of you Sweety." Whispered Grandma Rose as she brought a hand up to gently cup the back of Sam's neck, her hold around the young man was surprisingly firm as she rubbed her other hand over the youngest Winchester's shoulder.

Sam's heart both swelled and bled at these words. Moss-green eyes instantly filled with tears as Sam carefully tightened his embrace around Grandma Rose.

At least he'd made someone proud of him today. Sam painfully swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat before he spoke, but all he could manage was a tight whisper.

" Thank you for saying that Ma'am, it means a lot."

" Hey now, none of that. It's Grandma Rose to you too Baby ya hear?" Said Grandma Rose, her own voice shaking as well.

Around the two of them, their wasn't a single dry eye among the rest of Rashad's family as they took in the tender sight before them.

One of Rashad's aunts had gone so far as too snap off several pictures of what was truely a moment filled to the brim with love.

A moment of love, between a boy without his family, and a Grandma with limitless love in her heart.

After a few more moments of hugging each other tightly, Sam and Grandma Rose finally pulled away from each other.

" Yes Ma'am, I mean... Grandma Rose." Said Sam, looking sheepish at the mother-hen look Grandma Rose gave him after he'd referred to her as Ma'am once again.

" Hey Sam, get your butt over here man!" Came Mark Twombly's voice from where he stood with his baby son Ryan in his arms and his parents standing beside him.

The mock annoyed look on Grandma Rose's face quickly faded and was replaced with a chuckle as Sam leaned in and gave her a small peck on the cheek before he headed off to go and greet another Buddy and his family.

And so, for the better part of two hours, Sam mingled and laughed with his buddies and their families.

But, with each passing minute, the crowd of Marines and their families grew smaller and smaller until finally, only the Mathers family and one Winchester were left.

" Sam, are you sure you won't change your mind and come stay with us for a little while?" Asked Rashad's father Brian.

Rashad and several of his family members sent hopeful looks Sam's way.

Sam shook his head as he replied.

" No, I couldn't impose on you guys like that. Don't worry about me, I'll be alright. I'll just ask for an early transfer to Camp Geiger or, I'll just stay here. It's no problem, really." Insisted Sam, a small pang of guilt going through him as he eyed the disappointment on several faces.

" Sorry guys." He shrugged apologetically.

There was a brief pause before Sam spoke again.

" You guys should get going, you've all got very long drive back to Tennessee ahead of you."

And so, the Mathers family gathered around Sam once again, wishing the young Lance Corporal all the best.

" I'll see ya at Camp Geiger man." Said Rashad as he clasped arms with Sam and gave him a brief, brotherly embrace.

" Yeah, you will. Oh yeah, be sure to bring back some copies of those pictures you guys took." Said Sam.

" Will do." Said Rashad before with a final clap on the shoulder, he walked off to join the rest of his family.

Then, Grandma Rose came forward.

She pulled Sam into a hug once again, and whispered into his ear.

" You take care of yourself Sam, ya here."

" I will. Thank you Grandma Rose."

" And, if it isn't to much to ask, please watch out for my baby Rashad, both during training and when you do go to war. Please, have my baby's back out there."

" I promise I will, you have my word Ma'am."

" Oh, their you go callin' me Ma'am again, makes me sound so old. But besides that, thank you for sayin that Baby, it means a lot." Whispered Grandma Rose before they pulled away from each other.

With a final caress to Sam's cheek, Grandma Rose too went off to join the rest of her family.

Sam watched them as they left, waving until they disappeared around a corner.

Now, there was only one lone marine standing on the Parade Deck.

A feeling of desolation and terrible loneliness descended over Lance Corporal Samuel Winchester that made everything inside him ache.

This had been on of the happiest and saddest days of his entire life.

To his chagrin, Sam felt the walls he'd faught tooth and nail to erect begin to crumble.

Screwing his eyes shut to stem the hot tears bubbling up behind his eyes, Sam pulled off his white cap and all but ran back to the barracks that had been his home for thirteen straight weeks.

Those barracks were now empty, hollow.

Much like how Sam was feeling at the moment as he made his way down the rows of empty, immaculately made cots until he came to the one that was his.

Sam sank down wearily onto the edge of the cot, his head bowed. No longer did he look like the tall, proud young Marine that had stood proud and silent throughout the entire Graduation Ceremony that had ended a couple of hours ago.

Instead, he looked like a heartbroken kid.

In a way, he still was a kid seeing as to how he was still just eighteen years old.

Eighteen years old and now a full member of the United States Marine Corp.

Sam heartache was beyond tears now, he sat dry-eyed and silent save for the sound of his own breathing.

Though he was the picture of stoicism on the outside, inside everything was alight with a vicious agony that had only one remedy, a remedy that was out of his reach.

So lost was Sam in his sorrow, he was drowning in it. He allowed this drowning because there was no one around to watch him as he shattered.

So lost was he, Sam didn't noticed a certain Head Drill Sergeant quietly step into the empty barrack and silently walk down the row of cots towards him.

" Why aren't you on your way home Lance Corporal?"

Sam's head shot up and his eyes grew wide as he found himself staring back at Sergeant Mike Goodman.

He moved to stand when Goodman held up a hand and stayed that action. With a small sigh, Goodman walk over to the cot next to the one Sam was sitting on and sat down so that he was facing the only Marine that remained from the platoon he'd trained since they'd first set foot on Parris Island thirteen whole weeks ago.

There was a pause of silence that seemed to last for ages before Goodman got the coversation started.

" I'm waiting for an answer Lance Corporal Winchester."

Sam averted his gaze to the floor and was about to speak when Goodman cut him off.

" Hey now, look me in the eye when you're talking to me. You're a Marine now, Marines don't stare at their feet."

Sam instantly obeyed and forced his deep, moss-green eyed up from staring at the floor and looked at Sergeant Goodman straight in the eye as he spoke.

" There's no home for me to go back to and... I don't know where my family is and I have no way of finding them sir."

Though his face was set in stone, inside, Goodman felt anger and disgust ripple through him at how anyone could not be there for a boy like Sam? How anyone not be there for the Company Honor Grad and meritoriously awarded Lance Corporal?

" It's not my dad or my brother's fault that they weren't here today, it's mine sir." Said Sam, as though reading Goodman's thoughts.

" What do you mean it's your fault?" Asked a perplexed Goodman as he gazed hard at the young man sitting across from him.

" My family wasn't here today not because they're angry with me, they weren't here because they think I'm in college, they don't know I joined the USMC, they don't know I'm a Marine Sir." Said Sam quietly.

Sam watched as Goodman's face lost it's neutrality and went slack with shock for the first time in all the time Sam had ever known the Sergeant.

" Sweet Lord Jesus, why didn't you tell me this sooner, hell, why didn't you tell me this the first night all of you set foot here Winchester?" Asked Goodman once his voice came back to him, his eyes blazing in alarm.

" Are you gonna have me kicked out because of this?" Asked Sam, his eyes never wavering from those of the shell-shocked man before him.

That stunned Goodman even more but, years of training kicked in and he quickly schooled his features and shook his head, his once rigid posture deflating.

" No, no Lance Corporal, you didn't do anything wrong to the Corps but, you did do wrong to yourself and to your family. Why would you go and deceive them to be here, why didn't you tell them the truth Lance Corporal?" Asked Goodman as his eyes bore holes into Sam.

" They can't know I'm here, or that I'm going off to war. They're better off without me, they're safer. I don't think they'd be proud of me anyway, I think they'd just be pissed as Hell." Said Sam quietly, his eye flickering to the floor before once again meeting Goodman's gaze.

Something flickered with Goodman's hard eyes, but it was there and gone in a flash.

The two Marines sat in silence now, each man contemplating the thoughts that were whirling inside their minds.

It was Sergeant Goodman who broke the silence once again.

He spoke quietly and for the first time in all the time Sam had known the Sergeant, he looked human

" Well, if it means anything; I'm proud of you, I'm proud of you Lance Corporal Winchester, and all that you have accomplished here under my command."

Sam blinked rapidly for a few moments and cleared his constricted throat and spoke the best he could.

" Thank you Sir. What you just said does mean something, it means alot."


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot or Ami James of Miami Ink who was referenced for this Chapter, it is all property of the CW11 network and what ever else, TLC i think. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 12

Sam Winchester slowly inhaled a deep breath of air and then released it in the same, calming fashion.

It had been nearly two months since his graduation from Parris Island.

His 52 days of training to become a USMC Rifleman were done.

The USMC Riflemen were the the primary scouts, assault troops, and close combat forces on the Corp. They were the foundation of the Marine Infantry.

They were the guys who carried the M16 Service Rifles, M203 Grenade Launchers, and the M249 Light Machine Gun also known as SAW.

Sam himself was particularly fond of his M16, and as a testament to the medals he'd been awarded in Marksmanship during Boot Camp, he was a deadly shot with all three of these weapons of war.

They were the primary attack force, it the bullets started flying, they'd be in the midsts of all of it.

He and his platoon, which included Rashad Mathers, Mark Twombly, Mathew Ruiz, and Greg Roginski would all be shipping out for Iraq in five days time.( Keep this little fact in mind readers.)

But, at the moment Sam Winchester was sitting in a tattooing chair with Rashad Mathers and Greg Roginski blocking any means of escape.

Today, they had Liberty so Greg and Rashad all but pounced on Sam and dragged their buddy off to one of the local Tattoo shops.

Sam figetted a little and looked up at the very amused faces of his two fellow Marines.

He had to admit, it was kinda weird to see them in civilian clothes after nothing but standard uniforms and training out-fits for so long.

" Guys, on the slight off-chance that I do change my mind about this-" Sam began but Greg cut him off.

" We're standin' here for a reason man, every single guy in our Platoon's got art, there is no way we're letting a blank canvas live among us." Smirked the PFC as he stared at the youngest Winchester who was currently sitting in the hot-seat.

" Oy, my brother and my old man are gonna trounce me if they find out I got inked." Groaned Sam dramatically, though the corners of his lips were turned upwards.

" Yeah well, it's just us right now Pal. That's the beauty of it." Said Rashad, sending Sam a big toothy grin that the youngest Winchester returned with a small snort.

The three friends and fellow Marines bantered and teased each other until the tattoo artist Sam had given his design to, a tall, muscular dude with a bald head and a dark goatee gracing his upper lip and chin ( think Ami James of Miami Ink if you will) walked into their midst.

The man had on black latex gloves and held the stencils that made up the tattoo design Sam had specifically asked for.

It was a simple but poignant design that the tattoo artist had taken and tweaked to perfection.

Sam was getting three medium-sized realistice black and gray barbed-wire armbands with a long metal plate that looked like a real dog-tag at the center of each band.

The first Dog-Tag would bear the name Mary W. written in white with the Artist making the letters look like they'd been engraved into metal. On the very right side of the tag would be a simple, thin white cross, which also would be made to appear as though engraved.

The second Dog-Tag would bear the name John W. at the very right side would be the USMC rank insignia of Sergeant, done in the same fashion as the cross on the tag bearing his mother's name. This was his father's rank when John had left the Corps. A small tribute to from a son, to the oblivious father who's footsteps he was following in.

The final Dog-Tag would bear the final and most precious name to Sam Winchester's heart, Dean W. in white letters that seemed engraved into metal, the name of a beloved smart ass older brother. At the very right end of this tag would be something that always reminded Sam of his big brother. At the very right end was the letters AC and DC with a lightning bolt acting as a slash. The signature logo of the famous " Mullet Rock" Band Dean loved so fervently.

" Alright, off with the shirt then Mr. Marine." Said Jason, the tattoo artist as he took a seat in the artist's chair.

Sam obliged, taking off the button-up shirt he'd been donning, revealing a buff and well-toned body that was tanned and rock-solid.

" Hubba Hubba." Smirked Jason, to his delight earning deep, rumbling chuckles from all three Marines.

" Looks like everyone finds you hot Winchester." Grinned Greg, earning a mock glare from Sam while Rashad broke into chuckles again.

Still smiling, Jason began to carefully and gently press the stencils he'd prepared to Sam's very well-toned right bicep.

" Alright, go check it out in the big mirror." Said Jason as he indicated the large mirror on the wall behind him once he'd peeled the stencils off.

With a nod, Sam gracefully rose to his feet and walked over to the mirror, his eyes darting to the non-permanant blueish purple ink that now graced his arm from the stencil paper.

The three plates were straight and perfectly spaced from each other with the barbed- wire designs neatly encompassing the circumference of his arm.

Greg and Rashad also joined him at the mirror and nodded their heads in approval when their gazes fell on their friend's arm.

" Looks good." Called Sam as he turned and walked back to Jason.

" Alright, let's get started." Smiled Jason as Sam quickly retook his seat in the chair.

" Hey, make this extra special seeing as to how it's our man's first tattoo." Grinned Rashad, thumping Sam's naked shoulder lightly.

" Well then, I'm gonna put as much finesse in this as I possibly can." Grinned Jason as he switched on his tattoo gun, the needle making a soft buzzing noise as Jason dipped the tip in tattooing ink before he brought it to Sam's skin.

Sam bit back a wince and softly inhaled at the new, slightly painful sensation of a vibrating needle against his skin.

But, months of Marine Corp training quickly kicked in, the pain diminishing to just a hot sensation across his skin.

The youngest Winchester relaxed in the chair he was in and was now naturally curious as he watched Jason begin to draw, following the blue ink lines of the stencils.

" So, what ranks do you three Devil Dogs currently hold?" Asked Jason as he set to work, using the nickname given to the Marines by the Germans during WWI. A lot of Marine and other members of the Service came to this shop to get inked, it was a regular occurance.

" Private First Class." Answered Greg.

" PFC." Answered Rashad.

Then all eyes turned to the guy in the chair getting his first tattoo.

" Lance Corporal." Said Sam.

" A Lance Corporal who's almost a full Corporal." Muttered Rashad in mock exasperation.

" Looks like we got ourselves an over achiever." Teased Jason as finished tracing the first Dog-tag and set to work on the barbed-wire armband it was attached to.

" Oh, don't look at me like that. All I did was follow Sergeant Goodman's advice of always doing more that you're told to do, that's all." Countered Sam as his met Greg and Rashad's gazes.

Two face breaking smiles spread across Rashad and Greg's faces that Sam couldn't help but smile back at them with one of his signature mega-watt grins.

And so, for the time it took for Jason to do Sam Winchester's first official tattoo, the three Marines bantered amongst themselves and with the seasoned Tattoo Artist until Jason asked the inevitable question as he cleaned the tattooing needle and dipped it in white ink, getting set to write in the first name into the first Dog-Tag.

The names were the final step, everything else was complete, the tags and the barbed-wire looked strikingly realistic in gray, white, and black. Stunning.

" So Sam, who are these people who's names you're getting tattooed on your arm?"

The three other men watched as a sad smile graced Sam's face as his eyes gazed down at the almost finished tattoo that now graced his right bicep.

" The first one, Mary, that's my mother's name. She died when I was six months old, our house in Kansas caught fire. My dad got me and my older brother out but, it was too late for her. I have no memory of her and I only know what she looked like from old pictures. She was very beautiful." Said Sam, then with a sigh, he turned his gaze to the wall and continued.

" The second name, John, that's my Dad. He's an ex-marine himself, he was a sergeant, he faught in the Vietnam war, tough as nails. After my mom died, he was lost without her. I think that's one of the main reasons why we moved around alot, me and my brother grew up on the road. There was no home without her but, my Dad did the best he could. He raised me and my brother to basically be soldiers. And as you all can see, I just decided to become an official one."

" The final name, that's my big brother Dean, he's four years older than me. He's a total cocky, smart-ass who loves to crack jokes about everything, mainly your's truely. He practically raised me since my Dad was always off working. He has this huge love for old school rock music like AC/DC and of course, pretty girls, he can never resist them. Besides that, he's really great guy, the best big brother a geek like me could have."

When Sam's voice trailed off, he was met with stunned silence as three pairs of eyes gawked at him.

" Wow, that's deep man. Just, real deep." Said Jason quietly once his voice returned to him.

" I'm sorry about your mom." He added, earning a small, sad smile from Sam as he nodded.

" Thanks."

Jason returned the quiet smile before he set to work, using greater care and reverence as he began to draw in the late Mary Winchester's name.

As Jason worked, Sam turned his gaze to the two other Marines who were standing in audience.

Greg and Rashad were silent as their minds processed this information, this had been the first time Sam had ever given any real detail about his family. They were trying to wrap their heads around how someone who could smile bright enough to but the sun to shame could do so with so much sadness and heartache surrounding him all his life. And once again, they couldn't help but realise how much strength their friend possessed.

If it was possible, Rashad and Greg's respect for the youngest Winchester just went up a few levels.

45 minutes later, Jason finished wiping off the excess tattoo ink from Sam's skin and took a moment to eye his work.

" Alrighty, we are done folks, go take a look." He said as he and Sam stood up from their respective seats.

Sam walked over to the large mirror once again, this time to see the finished artwork that now graced his arm.

Jason had worked his tattooing magic, the whole design looked awesome.

If one were to look from affar, they'd think that Sam was wearing armbands, actual jewelry instead of a tattoo, it looked that real.

The first Dog-tag held Mary Winchester's name, Jason had used the tattoo inks in such a way that the letter and the cross on the very right end of the tag looked chiseled into a metal surface.

The second and third Dog Tags had the same effect, Sam especially liked how the rank insignia on the tag bearing his dad's name and the AC/DC logo on his brother's tag came out.

" Dude, this is awesome." Grinned Sam as he turned to Jason, endowing the tattoo artist with one of his signature grins.

" Glad you like it Lance Corporal." Grinned back Jason.

After a few minutes of admiring the artwork, Jason skillfully wrapped Sam's right bicep in bandages and handed him a small tube of skin ointment as he told him to not let any direct sunlight hit his right bicep for a few day, until the tattoo was fully healed.

The three Marines bid the Tattoo Artist and fond farewell and walked out of the shop and into the mildly crisp January North Carolina day as they headed back to Camp Geiger.

As a newly inked Lance Corporal Sam Winchester walked down the street, flanked by two of his best friends and fellow Marines, Sam could help but wonder in the back of his mind.

_Where was his father and big brother at? What were they doing? Were they alright?_

Meanwhile, on a highway somewhere else in America...

A Black Ford Pick-Up truck roared down the asphault, being closely followed by a sleek, black 1967 Chevy Impala.

The men behind the steering wheels of these two powerful vehicles looked like they hadn't slept in months.

In a way that was the real case.

John and Dean Winchester spent very little time on sleep over the nealy two months since they'd found out that their Sammy had pulled a fast one on them.

They'd spend every waking hour looking for their youngest, while also working any minor job that came their way.

John had alerted all of his contacts in the hunting world, including Caleb Reeves and Bobby Singer.

They and several other hunters were keeping a look out for any signs of the wayward youngest Winchester boy.

Dean himself was obsessed with trying to find his baby brother.

From where he sat behind the wheel of his truck, John let a soul weary sigh escape him.

Dean didn't smile anymore, he didn't laugh anymore, he didn't joke around, the smart-ass was gone.

What was left was a young man who desperately wanted to find his baby brother.

At all costs, he was gonna find his baby brother Sammy.

Once he did find Sam, he was never gonna let him go. Ever.

John himself was no better, he wanted his youngest child, he wanted that stubborn little boy of his safely with him and his big brother.

At all costs, he was gonna find his baby son Sammy.

Once he did find Sam, he would never let him go either. Ever.

Right now however, John and Dean were headed for Blue Earth, Minnesota, to Pastor Jim Murphy's place.

By the time they'd get there, the Pastor would be back from his months in England, helping out hunters and fellow members of the clergy.

It was a six day drive.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 13

The cool, January night air was ablaze with the roaring sounds of high powered aircraft engines and equally powerful male voices yelling and screaming out orders.

Newly promoted Corporal Samuel Winchester took a deep breath and let it out through his nostrils.

He stood tall and a picture of calmness, dressed in full combat gear. He was wearing a standard issue desert MARPAT Combat Utility uniform complete with helmet and combat boots. His obvious height of six foot four made him seem to tower over his fellow marines.

Held firmly in his hands was the signature M16 Firing Rifle, the principal weapon of the USMC Riflemen.

Corporal Sam Winchester and his platoon, along with several other platoons were shipping out for Iraq.

Tonight.

This was it, he was headed off to war, and it was uncertain if he'd return from the Middle East alive.

It was war after all, bullets would be flying and blood would be spilling over desert sands.

As Sam and the rest of the platoons got ready to board the mammoth carrier Jet that would be transporting them across the seas to the war torn country of Iraq, the youngest Winchester fervently hoped that the large yellow Manila Envelope in which he'd put the journal he'd kept throughout his basic training at Parris Island and a newly written letter to his father and brother was safely on it's way to Pastor Jim's mailbox in Blue Earth, Minnesota.

He'd sent it the day before yesterday.

The journal also had the many pictures that had been taken of him with everyone else on Family Day and Graduation, along with an official USMC Portrait photo of himself in his dress blues.

Now, United States Marines all dressed in their tan, desert MARPAT gear, slowly filed into one of the many Jets that would be transporting them to Iraq and took their seats side by side, all of them making sure that their rifles had the Safety firmly in place.

All of them were about to embark for their first tours of duty in the War of Terror.

As he took his seat with Greg Roginski and Mark Twombly flanking him on either side, Sam found himself silently beseeching God himself in his mind.

_" Please God, watch over my Father and brother, keep them safe from the evil that I brought down upon my family. Please forgive me for my sins and watch over every single man who fights along side me. I ask no protection for myself and all I will ask for, is the strength to survive. Nothing else." _

A small sigh escaped Sam as he sat and waited for all of the Marines to safely board the aircraft, the youngest Winchester's mind drifted to a far gone memory from his youth, a memory of him and Dean when they were still boys and Chick-flick moments were okay to have.

_November 19, 1988. _

_On a chilly day just outside of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. _

_Five year old Sam Winchester let out a small sigh from where he sat in one of the large and lumpy couches, his little legs dangling off the floor in the livingroom of yet another motel. _

_John was off doing research for his latest hunting job, it appeared that an angry spirit was taking out it's frustrations on anyone unfortunate enough to venture into a local, abandoned building. _

_Sammy was watching Scooby Doo on the television when he heard a faint noise coming from the bedroom._

_The five year old's mind immediately went to the only other person who was hear at the motel beside's him. _

_His big brother Dean._

_The little five year old quickly switched the T.V. off and jumped off his perch on the couch. _

_He quietly made his way over to the partially open bedroom door, as he neared closer, the sound that had initially caught Sam's attention grew clearer, more defined. _

_Crying. _

_Someone was crying. _

_Dean was crying. _

_Being as careful as he could, Sam gently pushed the door open. The piece of wood quietly swung away to reveal the only other occupant of the motel room. _

_Nine year old Dean Winchester sat with his back to the door, his entire form haunched over and shaking with small sobs. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he wiped futily at them. _

_He wanted something that was forever out of his reach, someone stolen from him five years earlier. _

_He wanted his mommy. _

_He wanted Mary Winchester. _

_" Deanie, whas wrong?" Came a small, confused voice from behind him. _

_Dean whirled around, his weepy green eyes meeting a pair of big, doe-like ones belonging to his baby brother who was standing in the doorway. _

_Dean turned away, not wanting to let his younger sibling see him crying. _

_" Go 'way Sammy. 'm fine." Croaked Dean. _

_Not deterred by his big brother's dismissal, the five year old quietly stepped into the room and hesitantly mad his way over to the bed his older sibling was sitting on. With a great deal of effort, the little boy hoisted himself onto the mattress, which was taller than he was. It was why Sam was now dangling from it, his little fist white-knuckled as they grasped the sheets. _

_Dean immediately turned around and grabbed his little brother by the straps of his jeans jumper and yanked him the rest of the way onto the bed. _

_Sam looked up at his brother's wet face with those big, puppy-dog eyes of his. _

_" Why're you cryin' Deanie?" He asked as one of his chubby little hands reached up to touch one of Dean's tear-stained cheeks. _

_Dean allowed his baby brother to clumisly wipe at his face with his little hands before with a small sigh he pulled away from Sam's touch and spoke. _

_" It's nothin Sammy, I'm just a little sad right now, I miss Mom." _

_" Why're you sad, you said mommy was an angel in Hevean, isn't she happy up there?" Asked Sammy as he and Dean sat facing each other on the mattress. _

_" Of course she's happy in Heaven, it's Heaven after all, I just miss her being here, she'd make me feel better." Sighed Dean. _

_Sam felt himself grow sad as he watched Dean sniffle and scrub at his cheeks with the back of his hand. _

_Then, the next thing Dean knew, he was being all but tackled by a five year old bundle of little baby brother. _

_" Don' worry Deanie, since Mommy's can' be here, I make ya feel bedder eh?" Grinned Sammy as he proceeded to squeeze his big brother in as big a bear-hug as he could. _

_Dean was silent, mostly just stunned my his baby brother's words before a huge, happy grin spread across the oldest Winchester boy's face as he wrapped his arms the little brother who was hugging him with all the might he could muster. _

_" Yeah Sammy, ya make me feel better. In fact, ya make me feel great." _

_The two Winchester brothers hugged each other tightly until Dean pounced on his baby brother and proceeded to tickle the smaller boy mercilessly. _

_" Eeeee, Deanie stop it, cut it out!!! " Squealed Sammy in delight as he tried futily to fight back, only trying half heartedly as he squirmed beneath Dean._

_The two brother lay laughing, happy to just be with each other. _

**THUD!!!**

Corporal Sam Winchester was shaken out of his memories by the sound of the Plane's entry door being slammed shut reverberating through the air and his ears, mingling with the echoes of the long since passed laughter of two little boys.

Everyone was aboard now, they'd be taking off any minute.

As he sat there, the plane began to move, slowly being driven by the Pilot down the airstrip until finally reaching the very start of the Runway.

There was a pause, everyone on board was silent as they waited.

After what seemed an endless amount of waiting with baited breath, the Plane began to move forward, slowly picking up speed until finally, the plane was rocketting down the runway at 180 miles per hour until finally, the front wheel left the asphault.

The Jet continued to move, basically doing a wheely with it's two remaining tires, taxiing until they too stopped touching the runway.

The Plane was airbourne, slowly rising further into the air on a maximum climb angle until finally leveling off and flying through the sky in true arial grace.

The Marines who were all on board began to cheer and yell, happy for the successful and safe take-off. All rejoiced, save for one marine.

From where he sat, Corporal Sam Winchester was silent and solemn, a single thought ran through his mind.

_" You said I used to make you feel better, I used to make you feel great Dean. But now, all I seem to be able to do is make you feel hurt, all I seem to do is make you cry. I'm sorry for that Deanie. So sorry."_

And so, with his mind and heart solely yearning for a big brother who was too far away for him to have, the youngest Winchester sat in grim anticipation, on a Jet filled with several other young and eager Marines.

Slowly, the giant Military Jet disappeared from the American horizon, it's destination far across the seas.

The aircraft carried men from all walks of life who were precious and loved by the families they belonged to.

Young men, elite warriors who were about to embark on a new and very dangerous, if not deadly chapter of their lives.

It was a chapter in life where no one's fate was certain.

It was a chapter that not every man would survive through.

The following morning at an oblivious Pastor's home in Blue Earth, Minnesota...

A pair of weathered eyes slowly fluttered opened, blinking away sleep as the light from a new morning streamed in through the windows of the bedroom.

Pastor James Murphy lay in bed, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom.

" I need to repaint this room." Grumbled Pastor Jim to himself as with a small grunt, he climbed out of bed.

The Pastor stood and stretched his limbs as far as he could, getting as many of the kinks out of his back and shoulders as he could.

He was still a little jet-lagged from his flight back from merry old England. He'd re-entered the United States two days ago, for those two day, he'd been totally wiped out.

The second he'd gotten home, he'd gotten all of the mail out of his jam-packed mailbox, dumped the many envelopes and one large yellow manila envelope onto his livingroom table and then all but collapsed onto his bed when he got upstairs and stayed there, only getting up for when nature called or his stomach made it clear that nourishment was needed.

He hadn't even stopped to check his answering machine for any messages.

The day after, he'd forced himself to go and get some much needed groceries and then collapsed again after eating a bowl of microwavable mac n' cheese.

This morning however, he was feeling better, much better.

It was a good thing too, because the day before yesterday he'd gotten a call from one John Winchester.

He and Dean would be here at noon.

The Pastor had noticed that John had only mentioned his first born son Dean and not his other boy. Jim naturally assumed that Sam was absent because the youngest Winchester had gone off to college, most likely against his father's wishes.

Pastor Jim had secretly felt pride in Sam, the boy had proven to him that he had a backbone by defying a strict, stubborn, and very controlling father like John Winchester.

With another sigh, Pastor Jim set off, going about his usual morning routine.

Once he'd emerged from the bathroom freshly showered, he set to work getting dressed in his usual Pastor's attire of a simple pair of black slacks and a button up shirt complete by a priest's collar.

Once he was done getting dressed, Pastor Jim headed downstairs to go start breakfast.

He wasn't Wolfgang Puck or anything when it came to cooking but, he could make a decent omelet.

Breakfast consisted of said omelet, two peices of toast, one spicy sausage, and black coffee with sugar.

_" The breakfast of champions."_ Thought Jim with a small scoff as he cleared his kitchen table of his now empty plate and utensils, dumping it all into the sink to soak.

Taking a sip from his still half-full mug of coffee, Pastor Jim set to work on tidying up the place a little, he was having company over after all.

The two eldest Winchester's would be here in to two hours.

Jim set about straightening furniture and getting the vaccum out of the closet to take care of the carpets and other dusty places.

That all took up most of the two hours, leaving Pastor Jim with a few minutes to sort out everything else.

Pastor Jim was gathering up the pile of mail and roughly straightening them up when the large yellow Manila Envelope caught his attention.

As he held this particular peice of mail, he was preplexed to see that there was no return adress or the name of the sender.

What the envelope did have written on it was his own adress and in big, bold block-print letters was...

**FOR DEAN AND DAD**

Pastor Jim instantly new that this envelope was from Sam but, why didn't it have his name and a college adress on it.

However, Jim was broken from his confused pondering by the sound of a car horn blaring loudly from outside.

John and Dean Winchester had both just pulled up into his driveway.

The company Pastor Jim had been expecting was here


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 14

Outside of Pastor Jim Murphy's house, Dean let out a small sigh as he turned the Impala's ignition off.

He pushed the driver's side door open and climbed out of the muscle car. John did the same as he climbed out of the driver's seat of his Ford Pick-up.

The chilly, Minnesota air bit at his pale and stubble covered face and his exposed hands as he and his father walked up the path to Pastor Jim's front door.

Inside, Pastor Jim put the envelope from Sam back down onto the coffee table next to the answering machine, inadvertantly placing it face down on the table so that the words DEAN AND DAD were hidden from view.

The Pastor got to his feet and quickly headed to the front door and pulled it open, just as John and Dean finished climbing the stairs to reach the front porch.

" Sweet Jesus." Swore Pastor Jim as his eyes fell on the two ghostly and haggard looking men standing before him.

John looked as though he hadn't had a decent nights sleep in months. His hair was in disarray, there were bags under his eyes and the beard that now graced the lower part of his face was more salt than pepper. There was an air of sadness around this man.

If John Winchester looked bad, Dean Winchester looked worse.

The younger man looked more dead than alive, the palor of his once golden, sun kissed skin was now a pale white. Where John had bags under his eyes, Dean had dark smugges that were in stark contrast against his pale skin. Dean was just shy of having a beard of his own, days of dark stubble gracing his usually shaven cheeks. But, it was Dean's eyes that caught Pastor Jim off guard.

There was a desperate, pleading light within them amidst a bone-weary dullness where there should've been a bright spark of life, the spark that made Dean... Dean.

" Hey Jim." Said John, his voice tired and somewhat sad. Dean merely nodded, remaining uncharacteristically mute.

" Hello John, Dean, c'mon in." Said Pastor Jim as he stepped aside to allow his newly arrived guests in.

John came in first with Dean following him, both men seeming to move on autopilot. Pastor Jim closed the door after them and quickly followed after the two rag-tag Winchesters.

" Would either of you care for some coffee?" Asked Jim.

" Yeah, that'd be fine." Sighed John.

" Sure." Came Dean quiet, hoarse sounding voice as he and his father took their seats in Pastor Jim's livingroom, they both sat totally oblivious to the fact that the truth about their Sammy was resting on the coffee table in front of them, sitting mere inches from them in the form of a message on an answering machine and a big, yellow manila envelope that lay front side facing down.

Pastor Jim returned a few minutes later with two fresh, steaming mugs of black coffee.

The Pastor handed one to each Winchester, earning a small, hoarse "Thanks" from both men.

Silence followed as Jim took a seat in one of his chouches on the other side of the coffee table. It was John who broke the silence.

" So Jim, how were five months in England?" Asked the oldest Winchester.

" Oh, was alright, 'cept the place is so dang haunted, there wasn't any time to just sit back and relax." Answered Jim with a small smile.

" What about you guys, where's Sam at?" Asked Jim in return.

At this, Jim watched as both Dean and John's faces pale, a feat in itself considering how strak they were to begin with. He instantly realised something was off. He watched as a humorless smirk spread across Dean's face as he spoke.

" Where's Sam?... Where is Sammy? Well Pastor Jim, your guess is as good as mine."

" What do you men Dean, isn't your brother in college or something?" Asked a very confused and very alarmed Pastor Jim.

Now it was John who spoke.

" We thought he was too until me and Dean headed up to Palo Alto to work a job and go see him at Stanford University where we'd thought he'd been for three months on a full scholarship after he'd packed a bag and stormed out the door one night. Well, we get there and find out that that boy of mine isn't even registered as a student. Me and Dean he'd over to the Dean of Admission's office and find out Sam had called the school and turned down his admittance, told them he couldn't attend, told them to give his scholarship to someone else. That was two months ago, we've been looking for him ever since, even call other hunters to keep a sharp eyes out for Sammy but, it's like he disappeared off the face of the Earth Jim." Sighed John wearily.

Pastor Jim sat stunned across from the two Winchesters, gawking at them with his jaw hanging open and his eyes wide.

" Sammy must hate us a great deal to pull a stunt like this, just to get away from us." Said Dean softly, his heart, already crumbling from two months of desperately searching for his baby brother and finding no trace of him, broke just a little more as he said these awful, untrue words.

" Dean." Warned John as he turned pain filled eyes to his oldest child.

" Jesus Dean!!! Don't say something that stupid. I'm sure there's-" Pastor Jim began when the beep of the answering machine cut him off.

" You have no new messages and one stored message." Came the mechanical female voice before the machine fell silent with another beep.

The three men stared at each other in silence before Dean spoke.

" You gonna check that Pastor Jim?" He asked, mildly curious.

" May as well seeing as to how it's probably months old." Shrugged Jim as he reached out to push the button to play the one, single stored message.

At first, there was only the white noise of the tape, but after a few seconds, a voice John and Dean Winchester hadn't heard in over five whole months and all three men were totally not expecting filled the air. A voice that made three hearts freeze cold within the chests that housed them.

_" This is Recruit Winchester. I have arrived safely at Parris Island. Please do not send any food or bulky items to me in the mail. I will contact you in 3 to 5 days by postcard with my new address. Thankyou for your support, goodbye for now." _

Inside Pastor Jim Murphy's house, the world had come to a screeching halt.

There was silnce save for the sound of two mugs on coffee falling from shocked fingers to the floor, both of them breaking into peices with the small amounts of coffee they still held within them splashing onto the carpet.

Outside, a Cardinal landed gracefully onto the roof of the 1967 Chevy Impala parked beside a Ford Pick-up truck, it chirped and flapped it's pretty, red wings.

" Oh... My... God..." Whispered Jim, his eyes growing to the size of dinner-plates as he stared at the answering machine.

John and Dean mirrored his expression with the addage of Dean's slack jaw as they too gawked at the answering machine before them.

Then, with a trembling hand, a pale and shocked John Winchester reached out, his fingers seeking out the REPLAY button.

Once again, Sam deep, hurried voice filled the air.

" R-Recruit Winchester? Parris Island? What the hell's goin on?" Asked a deeply confused Dean once the message ended.

" Parris Island, as in the Marine Corps Recruit Depot at Parris Island, South Carolina?" Exclaimed Jim as his and Dean's gazes went to the ex-marine among them.

One look at John's haunted and disbelieving face confirmed the growing fear that was brewing within Dean and Pastor Jim.

One look at John Winchester's face, the stopped world came crashing down, shattering into a million peices.

" SH+T!!!! SH+T SH+T SH+T SH+T SH+T!!!!" Yelled Dean as he bolted from his seat, making a jagged B-line for the door.

" DEAN WAIT!!!" Yelled John as he too bolted from his seat, barely catching his oldest son by the sleeve of his worn leather jacket, yanking his desperately flailing child backwards, away from his path to the front door.

" NO, LEMME GO, WE HAVE TO STOP HIM DAD, WE HAVE TO STOP THAT F--KING IDIOT!!!" Screamed Dean, trying with all his might to shake off his father's grip.

But John had hooked both his arms under Dean's and was holding on for dear life.

" Dean... DEAN!... Listen to me, we can't just go barging into a place like that. I know you're angry at Sammy, so am I but we have to keep our heads on straight. NOW CALM DOWN!!!" Yelled John, his face turning red from the exhertion of basically trying to reign in the whirlwind that was his oldest son.

Dean deflated somewhat at his father's shout, he roughly shrugged on his father's grip and then whirled around, his eyes ablaze with fury as he zeroed in on Pastor Jim.

" HOW LONG DID YOU KNOW?!!!" He yelled, knowing he was being irrational but, rationality was the farthest thing from his mind as the true weight of what had been revealed began to settle over him.

His baby brother had joined the Marine Corp, his Sammy had joined the Marine Corp with America now ingaged in war. With the country at _War_.

Though John himself had called for calmness, inside his heart was racing a mile a second.

His baby boy had joined the Marines, for Christ's sake his _baby boy_ had joined the _Marines_.

" Now see here Dean Winchester, I had no idea, Hell, I wasn't even here when this call was made, if I had been, as God is my witness I'd have gone to South Carolina and dragged him out of there myself." Cried Pastor Jim.

Dean deflated further and then turned pleading eyes to his father.

John stood with the gears of his mind working furiously.

It had been five months since Sam had left them, that meant that Basic training was over and further training was either done as well or nearly done.

John fervently hoped for the latter.

From where he stood, Jim's eyes darted in every which direction, he hated this feeling of helplessness and was trying to figure out what to do himself when his gaze shifted to the coffee table he was currently standing beside.

His eyes immediately fell on the large yellow manila envelope laying there in plain sight.

" Damnnit!!!" Swore Pastor Jim, he'd ask God for forgiveness at the use of language later as he all but pounced on the envelope.

" Dean, John there's no return address on this but, I'm pretty sure this is from Sam." Said Pastor Jim as he held out the yellow envelope.

John immediately snatched it from his long time friend and looked it over before tearing the end off and reaching inside it.

His hand came back out grasping a folded peice of plain writing paper and a leather bound Journal the color of light amber with the Initials S.W. written in block print with a Sharpie on the front.

Jim stepped closer as John held these two items with great reverance before he carefully handed the journal over to Dean, who took it with trembling hands.

He dared not to open it until the letter his father was still holding was read.

" Read it outloud Dad." Said Dean, hating how his voice was beginning to shake with fear and growing dread.

" Dear Dean and Dad..." John began.

The letter read as followed.

_January 22, 2002_

_Dear Dean and Dad,_

_By the time you get this letter, I'll already be on a plane headed fot Iraq. I'm actually shipping out with my battalion on the 24th. I know that the both of you are gonna be majorly at me for doing this. Anyway, along with this letter I am also enclosing the journal I kept throughout my time at Parris Island. It has all my recounts of going through Basic Training, it also has letters that I wrote to you guys, and a few I wrote to Mom. I didn't send them because I didn't have an address and because I couldn't let you figure out where I was. _

_In my Journal, you'll find my real reasons for leaving you like I did. I also put in pictures of me and the guys that were taken on Family Day and Graduation, they were kind enough to give me copies since I didn't have a camera. I wish you guys could've been there for those two special days but, it was my fault that you weren't. _

_Listen, I don't know if I'll ever see you both again. After all, it's War that I'm going to and you know more than anyone Dad that, not everyone comes back from war. But, I really, really, really hope that I do survive this so you guys can trounce my ass all you want. But back to the point, I want the both of you to know that, me leaving was never about having a normal life, it doesn't exist, not for us. I was perfectly fine, perfectly happy with the life we had, together. _

_Dean, I know I'm probably gonna sound like a little kid for saying this but, I want you to know that you're the best big brother in the whole world. Even though you are a huge jerk, who thinks with his downstairs brain most of the time. You always will be the best to me. Not a day went by that I didn't always think about you and how happy you always make me feel when I'm with you. _

_Dad, I wan't you to know that you're great too. You taught me and Dean to be strong no matter what. I don't think I would've made it through Boot Camp if I didn't always have your voice in the back of my mind. I even miss the way you yell at me. I wan't you to know that deep down, I never meant any of the things I said to you that night, any of it. I Just wanted you to kick me out, I needed you to kick me out. _

_It was too dangerous for me to stay with you both. _

_I promise I will try with everything that I have to come back from this is one peice but, the future is never written in stone, it's never certain. _

_I also want you to know that when I say that I was trained by the best, I don't just mean the United States Marine Corps. _

_Anyway, keep kicking Demonic Ass and keep saving people. _

_I'm sorry I lied to you both, and I'm sorry for all the times I disappointed you, or I wasn't there for you._

_I know that this is gonna sound all chick-flickey but, I love you guys like crazy. _

_Goodbye for now. _

_**Your Sammy.** _

_P.S. Please don't be mad at Pastor Jim, I knew he was gonna be out of the country so I left my message on his answering machine._

John's tear clogged voice trailed off as he finished reading the letter that he held between his trembling hands.

His eyes were bright and swimming in tears that had yet to fall but didn't have far to go from acheiving that.

John forced his tearfilled gaze away from the peice of paper he held in his shaking hand, his eyes immediately settling on his oldest child.

Dean had sunken into the couch Pastor Jim had been occupying minutes ago, rivers of bitter salt streaming down his face as he stared back at his father with wide, disbelieving eyes.

" N-No... No..." Whispered Dean over and over again as he began to shake his head furiously, his breathing slowly becoming irregular.

He was beginning to hyperventilate.

" Dean." Said John softly as he took a slow, carefull step towards his very distressed oldest son.

Pastor Jim, who was silently crying himself, also stepped closer to the young man he'd known since he was just a five year old boy, still wondering why his mother had gone to Heaven.

" NOOOOO!!!" A primal scream tore itself from Dean's throat as the young man once again bolted from his seat and made a B-line for the front door, Sam's journal falling to the floor, the small, portrait phot of Sam in full dress uniform spilling from within the pages.

Den only got a few bouds before he was once again grabbed, this time by both his father and Pastor Jim.

" NO! LET GO OF ME! GET OFF ME! I HAVE TO STOP HIM!!!" Screamed Dean, his voice borderlining hysterical as he faught hard again his father and Pastor Jim's grip.

" No Dean, it's too late, he's already shipped out by now, you heard what I read. W-We missed him... By a day." Choked John brokenly.

Dean instantly went stark still as his vapor-locked mind slowly processed his father's words.

Today was the 25th of January.

In the letter, Sam had said that he was shipping out on the 24th.

" No... Oh my God, please no." Gritted out Dean as his face contorted in agony as his already crumbling heart shattered like glass, shattered into milions of tiny shards.

Realization hit him like a ten ton weight.

His Sammy was gone.

He'd missed him by a day.

Tears now fell without shame from John's eyes as he tightened his grip on his oldest son's arm, Pastor Jim doing the same as the young man's knees buckled beneath him.

All three men lowered themselves to the floor with John all but crushing his only remaining child to him as Dean began to wail in utter devastation as he buried his face into his father's chest.

As he sat there tightly hugging his oldest son to him, John felt like his own heart was being ripped to shreds, a single thought running through his shell-shocked mind.

_" Oh God, What have I done to you Sammy, my baby boy?" _

What made this whole situation all the more worse was that, John and Dean had no Sammy to apologize to, no Sammy to beg for forgiveness, no Sammy to hold in their arms and tell that they were never disappointed in him.

They couldn't, because their Sammy had slipped away right under their noses, their youngest was now on a plane headed for an active War-Zone in the Middle East, their youngest was in a plane that took off... yesterday.

Their Sammy was gone.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 15

It took John and Dean a good two hours to regain some semblance of composure. The two Winchesters were once again seated side by side on Pastor Jim's sofa, the sat in utter, silent dejection.

So lost were the two eldest Winchesters, it was Pastor Jim who finally noticed Sam's journal and the lone photo that had managed to fall out from within it's pages.

With great care and reverance, Pastor Jim picked up the book that Sam Winchester had put the very essence of his heart and soul onto the page throught the ink or a ball-point pen, and the small, rectangular peice of light sensitive paper that had captured the youngest Winchester, forever freezing him within the image it held.

Trying his best to swallow the large lump that had formed in his throat, Jim turned to the two heart-broken men situated on his sofa. Silently, Pastor Jim held out the two poignant items to the father and big brother of Sam Winchester.

Two pairs of eyes, both red and still wet with despair looked up at Jim.

It was always said that the eyes were the windows to the soul.

Pastor Jim Murphy could tell just by looking into these two sets of eyes that the souls of the men they belonged to were broken, devastatingly broken with the one thing, the one person who could mend every single crack, too far out of reach.

With shaking hands, John took the picture of his youngest chid, while Dean took the journal from Pastor Jim's hands.

John Winchester felt his already shattered heart both break just a little more and also swell with fatherly pride as he gazed at the image of his youngest son, dressed in a full United States Marine Corps dress uniform. Sam's eyes were soul piercing, even in a simple photo as they stared back at the man who'd fathered him.

As he sat and stared at his youngest child's photo, John couldn't help but notice how much Sam looked like he himself did, so many years ago when John too had taken a similar picture, dressed in full uniform, ready to graduate from Basic Training at the Marine Corps Recruit Depot in San Diego, California, ready for War in Vietnam.

Unfortunately, that photo hadn't survived the harsh flames from the night Mary Winchester was murdered.

That whole life before that night had burned up itself along with her that devastating night.

While his father was staring at Sam's portrait shot, Dean was carefully opening his baby brother's journal, the pages opening to reveal that the rest of the pictures Sammy had enclosed were still tuck snuggly in the middle of the journal. The oages had securely held them in place. Gently, Dean pulled the cluster of many photo's out and set the journal down on Pastor Jim's coffee table so that he could hold the images of his beloved baby brother with both hands.

The first photo was of the entire training Platoonm standing tall and to attention for a group shot. Everyone was in Green BDUs and their faces set in the famous Marines stoicism with their eyes front, boring into the camera.

Head Drill Sergeant Mike Goodman stood at the very front with two sub Drill Sergeants flanking him on either side.

Dean searched for his baby brother's face amidst all of the young men in the picture until he finally zeroed in on Sam's face.

" Ha. They made the tall freak stand all the way in the back." Sighed Dean tearfully, a small, sad smile turning the corners of his lips.

John shuffled closer to Dean while Pastor Jim came around the coffee table to perch on the arm of the sofa next to Dean's other side. The two older men were also eager to see Sam and figure out what Dean meant.

Sure enough, Sam was in the back, standing on the last bleacher with all of the other tall guys of the platoon.

Sam seemed to dwarf even them as he stood tall and serious with the rest of his now fellow Marines.

John and Pastor Jim chuckled quietly as they too eyed the photo.

The next photo was of Sam and four other guys, Dean turned it over to find Sam had scrawled on the back of the photo, it read...

_Me and my fellow Jarheads from the platoon on Family Day, starting with the guy next to me, Rashad Mathers, Mathew Ruiz, Mark Twombly, and Greg Roginski._

Dean turned the photo over and eyes the five young Marines.

They were goofing off for the camera, grinning from ear to ear but it was Sam's grin that seemed to be the most dazzeling.

And so, the three men gazed at photo after photo of Sam with his once long chocolate brown hair cropped close to his head, standing with various people, including one where he was smiling as he tenderly held an absolutely adorable little blue-eyed baby boy, Mark Twombly's son Ryan.

Throughout every single picture, Sam was smiling, seemingly happy, until the final photo from Family Day came into view.

Someone had snapped off a shot while Sam hadn't noticed there had been a camera zeroed in on him.

This one photo shattered any and all pretense of the smiling, happy young man in the other photos.

This one photo captured how Sam had truely been feeling that day.

Sam stood apart from his four other buddies and their families, his head was turned away from them. His deep, moss green eyes were staring off into the distance, unseeing and faraway. The deep green depths were filled with barely masked despair and sorrow, quiet misery seemed etched into every line of the youngest Winchester's.

Though at the time of Family Day, this agony and heartache had been forcefully hidden back behind a dazzeling grin, the photo had captured it and forever immortalized a young, lonely Marine's pain and longing.

Forever froze it for certain eyes to see now.

If it were possible, Dean and John Winchester found themselves feeling worse than they'd felt upon learning the truth about their Sammy in the form of a message on an answering machine and a hand written letter.

They could only imagine how their Sammy had been feeling that day as they realized he'd been all alone, surrounded by the other marines and their families.

For Sammy, it'd been Family Day, without any Family.

After this photo, were pictures of the Big Day, the culmination of everything Sam had gone through his first three months at Parris Island.

Graduation Day.

The first photo of the main event was of all the Marines in Sam's platoon, dressed immaculately in their green graduation uniforms with Sam at the very for front wearing the signature Blue Uniform and holding the red guidon with his platoon number that set him apart as Company Honor Man.

" My boy Graduated with Honors, he graduated as a Lance Corporal." Whispered John and he immediately recognized the Rank insignia that adorned the sleeves of his son's blue dress uniform. Dean and Pastor Jim's eyes immediately traveled to gaze at the oldest Winchester.

John's face was a mixture of awed pride, disbelief, fear, and a whole plethora of other emotions as his eyes bore into the picture of his son leading the Graduation march.

Image after image of Sam standing tall, stoic and regal along with his fellow Marines on Graduation Day followed until, they once again reached pictures of Sam being surrounded by total strangers.

Dean and John felt both jealousy and guilt spike through them as they gazed at the images.

Sammy was _their_ baby after all, if anyone should've been there cheering for him in the stands and hugging him afterwards, it should've been _them_. But they hadn't been there, because they'd been carefully deceived and because they'd been too wrapped up in their own wounded feelings, too wrapped up in their dumb, Winchester pig-headed pride to see that Sam had deliberately set everything up to get himself kicked out of his own family, to have himself deliberately driven away.

But, when they reached the photo of Sam having his face tenderly held by an elderly woman, jealousy was replaced with resigned sadness and a small hint of gratitude to this woman who had gazed at Sam with adoration and pride clearly in her weathered eyes and wrinkly smile.

The photo captured clearly that this moment had been one of tender love.

It was a small comfort to John and Dean to know that _someone_ had given Sammy a small moresal of love in their absense.

Even though it was Love that they themselves should've and had every right to have given.

The final photo of the bunch was of Sam waving a gloved hand in the air with a small, sad looking smile gracing his lips, seeming to say goodbye not only to the person behind the camera, but also to Dean, John, and Pastor Jim.

Then, stillness followed as the three men sitting on the sofa quietly tried to comprehend the collosal, life altering information that had all but hit them with the force of an avalanche.

After a good five minutes, John pushed himself up from his seat with a sigh, his watery eyes immediately going to the closed journal that lay on Pastor Jim's coffee table along side the letter that had revealed some of the truth. Slowly, John reached out and carefully picked it up.

While he held his baby boy's journal with his left hand, the fingers of his right hand lightly ghosted over the two letters written across the front in permanant black marker.

Feeling his eyes begining to burn with tears of shame, guilt, and a deep unworthiness, John turned to a still seated Dean and slowly held out the journal to his oldest son. Dean had been silently looking through the photos a second time when his eyes caught the movement above him. His lost, tear-ridden eyed looked up to meet his father similar gaze before they traveled to the item that was being held out to him.

" Dean, Sammy said the answers were in this journal. I want you to start reading it." Said John gruffly.

Not being able to utter a single word, Dean nodded mutely and reached out to grip the book that was being offered tightly in his hand.

John's hand slowly slid away from the smooth book he'd been holding, his fingers immediatly missing the contact with all that now physically remained of his youngest child.

" What are you gonna do?" Asked Jim, his voice almost a whisper.

" I gotta make some calls, tell Caleb and Bobby to spread the word to... to stop looking." Said John quietly before he quickly stalked away and out the front door to go and do just that, leaving Dean and Jim to their thoughts.

Dean gently lay the photos in his other hand down on the coffee table, on top of Sammy's letter so that he could hold the journal in both palms.

As he sat their, he couldn't help but scoff at himself.

Here he was, Dean Winchester the demon hunter and smart ass, fearless in the face of the supernatural and weird, afraid to open a simple book, afraid to read the words that had been scrawled across it's pages by the baby brother he loved dearly but had contributed in driving away, afraid of what other terrible revelations this simple journal held.

Afraid... of the undeniable Truth that would most certainly be devulged once eyes took in the words, and minds processed them.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 16

While things were crumbling at Pastor Jim's.

In Black Rock, Utah...

Caleb Reeves sat in a secluded booth near the back of the diner he'd stopped in to grab lunch.

He'd been driving to his next hunting gig in Colorado when his stomach had loudly signaled it's need to have some food in it.

Caleb had spent a few days once again combing through the places near California in a futile attempt to find a certain lost Winchester boy.

It'd been a good two months since a frantic phone-call from John Winchester led the whole network of hunting world being alerted to the disappearance of Sam Winchester.

Hunters throughout the country were dividing their time between working jobs concerning the Supernatural and keeping a keen eyes out for the wayward young man.

A young man who was proving to be very elusive to find.

For Caleb himself, Sam was never too far from his thoughts. After all, he'd known both of John's Winchester's sons when they were still just boys. He remembered with great fondness when Sam was more baby than boy, curious by nature about everything, always asking questions and wanting to know why. His big, innocent eyes were always filled with wonder and life.

And, never too far was Dean, a boy who'd always been wiser than his years, always there to protect his baby sibling. Caleb knew that Dean's childhood had been cut short because of what had happened to his mother but, there were times when the kid and had just been... a kid.

A very mischevious one at that.

Caleb smiled a memory of a night of baby sitting and bearing witness to a seven year old Dean's sense of humor.

He'd been baby sitting the boys while their father was off with a few other hunters to take down a rogue werewolf that was wreaking havic outside of North Dakota.

Caleb had been sitting in the livingroon, watching some T.V. when they happy, high-pitched laughter of a seven year old caught his ear. He immediately headed for the bedroom and stealthily opened the door.

The sight that had greeted him would always be remembered as one of the funniest scenes Caleb had every seen in his life.

To describe it simply, Dean had decided to give his three year old brother a new hair do. Dean had taken clumps of Sammy's hair and wrapped rubber bands around them tightly so that they stood erect like little honey brown palm trees. Five of these in total adorned baby Sam's head, making him look like a human troll doll.

Caleb had taken one look at almost afro Sammy and had burst into a fit of very unmanly giggles. Things had taken an even more hilarious turn when John had come home from a successful hunt.

John had looked from a brightly grinning Caleb, to an innocent looking Dean standing beside him, and finally focusing on his baby boy Sammy, who was oblivious to his embarrassing appearance and more focused on sitting on the floor and playing with his teddy-bear named BoBo.

Silence had reined over everything before John had let out a deep, soul weary sigh with his eyes looking up, as though to ask God himself...

_Why Me?_

Caleb let a small sigh escape him as the memory faded back into the recesses of his mind. The seasoned hunter couldn't help but wonder and feel for Dean, these last two months had most likely been hell for the young man. He'd seen Dean a few times during the first month after the alarm about Sam had been raised, the usually bright and cheerful smart-ass that was Dean Winchester had been replaced with a nearly lifeless and totally lost individual.

Caleb was brokenfrom his melancholy thoughts and bygone reminescing by the sound of his ring-tone going off. Quickly pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket. When his eyes fell on the I.D. screen, Caleb felt a jolt go through him when he realized it was John Winchester. Caleb quickly flipped the phone open and brought it to his ear.

" Hey John." He spoke, waiting for an answer.

Silence followed for several beats before an answer came.

" Hey Caleb." Came the quiet, tear-roughened voice of John Winchester.

Caleb had only to hear the sound of his friend and fellow hunter's voice to know that something was wrong, very wrong.

With dread rapidly mounting within him, Caleb spoke.

" Johnny... What is it? Have you found him, have you found Sam?"

Again, there was silence save for the feint rattle of John's breathing, trying to stop himself from screaming with all his soul into the phone, desperately trying to keep himself from melting into full blown hysteria.

After several moment, John forced the bile from rising into his throat and willed his voice to speak.

" C-Caleb... Sammy... He's... He's not in the country any more."

" What do you mean? Where is he then?" Asked a very alarmed and very confused Caleb Reeves.

" As far as I know, he's on a plane headed for Iraq." Answered John, his voice as hollow and empty as he was feeling where he stood outside on Pastor Jim's front porch.

" WHAT!!!!!" Exclaimed Caleb so loudly, his own disbeliving ears were left ringing.

Caleb quickly bolted from his seat, all thoughts of lunch fleeing from his mind as he all but barreled towards the front door. Many of the Diner's other customers watched him curiously as he dashed past them.

Once he was out the door, the chilly air bit at Caleb's exposed skin as he headed for his dark green SUV. He quickly climbed into the driver's seat before he proceeded to rant into the phone that was all but glued to his ear.

" WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYIN MAN? WHAT THE FUCKING HELL'S SAM DOIN ON A PLANE HEADED FOR GODDAMN IRAQ OF ALL PLACES!!!!!"

John's quiet, shaking voice filled the line in reply.

" He joined the Marines Caleb. Sammy joined the Marines and they shipped out for Iraq... Yesterday. Me and Dean just found out a few hours ago when we got to Jim's place. Sam left a message on Jim's answering machine and a package to the both of us."

" What was in the package?" Asked Caleb urgently.

" Sam left a journal he kept through basic Training and a letter telling us it would be too late to stop him. Caleb... my baby son's gone. My baby son's gone off to war, do you hear me? My Sammy got himself shipped off to war." Choked out John, his chest burning with agony.

" Oh My God John." Breathed Caleb, feeling a suffocating weight settle over him as the truth began to hit him.

" C-Caleb I... I got no idea what to do right now but, I called to tell you to spread the word, to tell everyone to stop looking. I'm gonna call Bobby and tell him to do the same." Said John brokenly, his hands trembling minutely where he stood.

" O-Okay John I'll... I'll make some calls but, I'm comin ta Blue Earth cause I want a full explanation." Vowed Caleb, determination and stubborness filling him.

" Yeah, alright, sure Caleb. I'll see you then." Sighed John before the two friends and Demon hunters said their goodbyes and hung up.

From where he sat in his car, Caleb slumped dejectedly in his seat with his throught rapidly closing up.

" Jesus, what the hell's goin on?" He whispered to air, as though oxygen had the answer.

From where he stood on the porch, John breathed in steady, big gulps of air and breathed out slowly, trying to steadying his frayed nerves as he turned once again pressed the button on his phone for another number.

A few seconds later, the phone began to ring in a house located in South Dakota. It rang several times before the house's owner finally picked it up and answered.

" Bobby Singer speaking."

" Bobby, it's me John Winchester."

Like Caleb, Bobby instantly sensed that something was off with the oldesy Winchester .

" John, is everthing alright with you and Dean?" He asked instinctively.

" ... No." Came John's short, broken answer.

This simple answer had Bobby's mind beginning to race as he spoke.

" This is about Sam isn't it? Is... Is he...?" Bobby trailed off, not wanting to finish the question.

" No Bobby, he's alive, he's alive but, he's well on his way to a place where he could end up... Bobby, my boy joined the Marines and got himself shipped off to Iraq... Yesterday."

" ... Holy Mother of God himself." Whispered Bobby, barely managing to not drop the phone in his hand.

It was very clear, that the departure of one young man had caused shock-waves with the force of tsunamis to reverberate throughout the world he'd given up...

For the sake of Love.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 17

While his father was outside barely keeping himself together as he made the necessary phone calls, Dean was still seated stark still on the sofa with Pastor Jim beside him.

Dean's eyes were all but superglued to the simple leather bound, amber colored book he was holding in his hands, now his only connection to Sammy, his beloved Sammy.

As he sat there staring at Sam's journal, John's words before he'd stepped out to make his phone calls began to swirl within Dean's mind.

_" Dean, Sammy said the answers were in this journal, I want you to start reading it." _

A part of Dean wanted nothing more than to scream out "**Fuck you dad, I'm gonna go book a flight to Iraq this instant!" **

That in itself should've gone down in the vast pages of history seeing as to how the thought of even driving by an airport usually left Dean Winchester in a cold sweat. However, Dean's phobia of flying had basically... flown out the window. If getting on a plane meant he could save Sam from serving time in a Goddamn war, then he was getting on that fucking plane.

But, Dean knew that this was a fruitless thought. There was no way civilians, even ones who were secretly Demon hunters and cunning con-artists, would be allowed on a plane to an active war-zone.

Dean's flaring thoughts of hopping on a plane to Iraq and bodily dragging his baby brother's idiotic ass back safely to the United States... Fizzled out like the flame on the candle against a hurricane's wind. It left Dean all the more dejected and heart-broken.

" Dean, would you like to be alone?" Asked Pastor Jim softy.

Dean jerked, as though being abruptly jarred from a dream. He turned sharply to face the Pastor.

" Huh?" He asked, having not really heared the spoftly spoken question.

" Would you like to go upstairs to my guestroom and read your brother's journal... in private, where it's quiet?" Elaborated Jim quietly, his voice only holding concern and sadness, but no pity, no pity at all was held within Jim's voice.

After a pause and another glance down at Sam's journal, Dean gave a small nod to Jim and spoke.

" Yeah, private sounds okay/" He sighed.

" Alright then, follow me. I'll show you the guest room." Said Jim as he and Dean got to their feet.

Jim silently led the way to the second floor with Dean behind him clutching his baby brother's journal to him. Jim showed Dean the room at the very end of the hallway.

The two of them paused outside the door and stood in silence for a moment before Dean spoke.

" Thanks Pastor Jim." Said Dean with a small sniffle and his eyes downcast and not really meeting the Pastor's.

Pastor Jim just regarded the young man standing before him in silence.

Dean Winchester was a total wreck both in appearance and spirit now.

Still without uttering a single word, Jim stepped forward and gently pulled Dean into a firm embrace.

" It's gonna be alright Dean. He's gonna be alright." Whispered Jim quietly into Dean's ear.

Dean clenched his jaw to keep himself from once again giving in to the anguish that was boiling within his heart as he wrapped an arm around Pastor Jim in reciprocation of the secretly welcomed hug. The warmth was comforting but, it did little to quell the pain lancing through his very soul.

They pulled apart after a few moments, with a small, solemn nod and a light pat to Dean's cheek, Pastor Jim turned and left the oldest Winchester boy to his promised solitude.

Releasing a shakey breath and trying to shut out his heart, Dean all but dragged his emotionally and physically exhausted self over to the single, queen-sized bed and wearily sank onto the mattress.

Steadying his nerves the best he could, Dean slowly parted the covers of Sam's journal, opening the book to it's first page, which was filled with the neat hand writing.

Cold fear was replaced with a desperate need for answers as Dean began to read the words his baby brother hadn't been able to tell him.

The first entry had been written on the night of October 2, 2001; the night Sam had first stepped foot on Parris Island.

It read as followed...

_October 2, 2001_

_Well this is it, I'm actually sitting in a silver coach bus headed for Parris Island. _

_My plan worked, last night I got myself kicked out of the house, actually, I got myself kicked out of my family all together. _

_I think my father and brother would either drop dead from shock or they'd blow up like atomic bombs and hunt my ass down if they knew I was now on a bus headed for bootcamp, United States Marine Corps Bootcamp. There are a whole bunch of other guys, young guys. __I wonder how their families felt about them joining the Marine Corps, hell... I wonder how their families felt about them leaving in general. _

_Do any of these guys feel like their hearts were ripped out, stomped on, and run through a meat grinder for good measure, or is it only me who feels this way right now? _

_Probably just me. _

_The other guys on the bus, most of them are excited and restless, totally psyched about being here. Others however, are quiet, tight lipped, and most likely praying to the Guy Upstairs. _

_Me, besides feeling like crap for leaving Dad and Dean, I guess I just feel relieved. I'm relieved my family fell for the lies and acting, I'm relieved they washed their hands of me. They're safer now, I won't be around to screw up things like I usually do. Dad's got the better son with him to watch his back, things are better this way, with me out of the picture. _

_Besides, I'm "** Of to Standford University ON A FULL RIDE**." right?_

_My family thinks I'm off to go and live a fucking normal life. _

_Normal, no demons, no werewolves, no nightmares made into reality. None of that. _

_It was what I wanted right, cause I was sick of hunting and the supernatural world? _

_To just be normal? _

_Lies, all lies. _

_It was all just one big, fucking lie._

_As I'm sitting here on this bus being driven through absolute pitch-blackness outside, I can still hear Dad's voice in my head, the way he'd screamed at me, told me that if I wanted to go, then I'd have to stay gone, I'd never be allowed to come back. At least my Dad said something to me, Dean one the other hand, my brother didn't say anything to me at all. He didn't say a single word, no "goodbye", no " See ya later." not even a " You're a Goddamn Idiot Sam."_

_No, he didn't say a thing, he just glared at me with so much hurt and anger in his eyes before he'd walked away. _

_But I understand, I wouldn't have wanted to speak to, let alone be anywhere near me if I were in Dean's place. _

_But, that's what I do right, hurt the ones who mean everything to me? _

_I hurt my Dad by leaving, but I hurt Dean more, hell I'm the one who's hurt him the_ _most, all his life. _

_Dad always made sure there was a roof over our heads and Dean was the one who always made it home. Dad taught us how to be strong and to protect ourselves but Dean was always there to protect me._

_Between the both of them, they gave me everything I could ever need and I repaid them both by lying to them through my teeth, turning my back on them and walking out the door without so much as a glance back. _

_I wish I could've told them that it was never my choice to leave them, it was my only option, it was what I had to do. _

_I wish I could've told them the truth but, for the both of them ignorance is bliss at the moment._

_Well, I better stop writing for now, the bus is pulling up to Parris Island. _

_We're here, and there's this guy wearing a uniform standing near the front streps of the building, waiting for us. _

_I bet he's a Drill Sergeant._

_He looks hungry, and the only dish on the proverbial menu... is us, the new arrivals._

_I'll write some more later, once we're all settled for the night but for now. _

_It's time to get yelled at_.

At this point, there was a three line gap before Sam had continued writing his first entry.

_Now, I'm writting while sitting over the edge of the standard military cot that was assigned to me once the company I'm now with was assigned a barrack._

_That Sergeant I mentioned earlier, he's the Head Drill Instructor here at Parris Island. _

_My ears are still ringing from all the yelling and shouting he was so gracious enough to bestow upon us. __The man started yelling at us nearly at the top of his lungs the second the doors on the bus were opened. _

_We all scrambled out of the bus and quietly formed into lines, using the yellow footsteps that were painted on the pavement as guides. As I stood there, I couldn't help but think about my Dad._

_He stood like had once, a very long time ago. To be honest, a whole life-time ago. _

_Did he feel nervous? Did he feel excited? Was he scared about going off to war? _

_Had he ever asked himself if he was doing the right thing? _

_Maybe I should've asked him "out of Curiosity". _

_Anyway, we got our asses in line and whenever Sergeant Goodman asked a question or gave an order, we obeyed without question and answered as one with Sir Yes Sir. _

_We marched into the building and were led to a room where four telephones inside boxes lined the right side wall. We were all told to line up so we could make the compulsary phone-call home. _

_I stood off to the side, trying to think of what to do. _

_By now, Dean and Dad were most likely packed up and on their way out of town, sure I knew their cell-phone numbers but I think they've most likely changed them so I can't call anyway. To top it off, just when the idea to call Pastor Jim came to mind, Sergeant Goodman noticed I was standing out of formation and immediately swooped down to tear me a new one. _

_He asked me, rather loudly why I was standing off to the side and basically answered him with the truth. _

_I really have no way of contacting my family, no permanent address and no telephone number. _

_I asked Sergeant Goodman if I could call Pastor Jim and he said that would be alright. _

_So I did, I called Pastor Jim's place and left my message on his answering machine, knowing that the Pastor was gonna be out of the country for a good five months._

_I felt like shriveling up and dying right then and there as I spoke into the phone, hoping to squeeze in the words we were supposed to read off a peice of paper taped inside the box all before the machine beeped. _

_At least I told someone the truth about where I really was, even if it was a machine. _

_After I was done with my phone-call, the part I was dreaded came. _

_I stood with the other guys on a single file line, at the end of which was a guy in a dew-rag and a burgundy colored Barber's chair. _

_Dad would be happy, I'm no longer sporting the long, " Emo-Hair" as Dean always called it, now I'm totally buzzed and I look like Dumbo because of my ears, they look huge. _

_I actually wish Dean was here to laugh at me, I'd actually feel better. _

_Anyway, after that, we were marched into another room where we turned in any un-needed civilian items and handed standard training uniformed. _

_Plain green T-shirts, green camouflage BDUs, green wool socks, and black boots. _

_We were assigned companies and barracks after that and here I am now sitting on a cot with the sounds of murmers and stuff being packed away surrounding me as I write in this journal. _

_Its gonna be lights out any minute now so, this is where I end this first entry. _

_But, before I do, Dean and Dad, if you guys ever read this journal I just wanna say: _

_I miss you guys a lot right now more than ever, and I'm sorry. _

_And yeah, I'm gonna get all Chick-Flicky and say that I love you both. _

_Until the next entry I write down, goodbye for now. _

_USMC Recruit Samuel Winchester. _

A drop of warm, salty human saline splashed minutely onto the letter **S **of Sam Winchester's name, it was quickly followed by another drop splashing just beneath the letters composing **USMC. **

Two drops of a human soul's abject heartbreak and despair.

The journal fell from badly trembling hands onto the sheets that covered Pastor Jim's mattress.

A violent sob wracked through Dean Winchester's body as he curled himself into a tiny ball across Pastor Jim's mattress, tears gushing fron his greenish-hazel eyes.

" Aww... S-Sammy." Whispered Dean before he buried his face into his hands and desolved into bitter tears and harsh sobs.

Dean Winchester lay there, weeping and absolutely shattered by what he'd just read.

His mind was a whirlwind of sorrow and regrets, with one standing paramount to all the others.

_" Oh God Sammy, why didn't I say anything to you?" _


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 18

John Winchester quietly and carefully made his way up the stairs to the second floor of Pastor Jim's house. It had been a good hour and a half since Johb had made his necessary calls to Bobby Singer and Caleb Reeves. It'd been ninety minutes since Jim had led Dean up the stairs and shown him his guestroom so that John's oldest son could read his baby brother's journal in solitude. Cautious and uncharacteristically nervous, John slowly made his way down the hall, to the door at the very end of it.

When he reached it, John noticed that the door was slightly ajar, showing a small sliver of the room behind it. With his hand minutely trembling, John stealthily pushed the door open, being mindful to be as noiseless as possible. The sight that greeted the father of Dean and Sam Winchester made a fresh wave of pain blossum across his chest, ripping a fresh wound on his already bleeding heart.

There, curled up into an inhumanly tiny ball was his oldest son. Dean was fast asleep but, there was no peace settled over his features, his sleeping face held only a bone deep sadness and still damp tear tracks that that glistened lightly over his pale cheeks whenever the sunlight that streamed in the room caught them. Resting under Dean's right hand was Sam's journal, still opened to the first entry and held close.

Using every ounce of his will to keep his own despair and heart-ache at bay, trying to keep his feeling as void as he could, John slowly stepped into the room and made his way over to his sleeping child. John wanted nothing more than to reach out and run a hand through his oldest son's short, blonde, and now a days slightly unkept hair, to ease away the lines of sorrow and brokeness that marred Dean's sleeping visage. But, Dean was one of his son's after all, that kind of gesture, no matter how loving, would immediately rouse the young man from his though restless, but much needed sleep.

So, John let his boy sleep, knowing full well how exhausted Dean was. Two months of obsessively searching for his baby brother and finding out mere hours ago the true, terrifying fate, the proverbial pit really, that that same brother had willingly fallen into. John himself felt weary, older, like he'd aged decades in the mere hours since he himself had learned the truth about his youngest boy... His baby.

The oldest Winchester let out a small sigh as he sank into a chair beside the bed, his gaze turning to the book beneath Dean's hand. With another glance at the tear-stains on Dean's face, John put two and two together.

What the Hell had he been thinking telling Dean to read the journal after having just found out about Sammy and what had really happened to him?

With a self depricating shake of his head, John reached out and carefully, gently pulled Sam's journal out from under Dean's hand. The movement made Dean stir a little and mumble somthing incoherent but, he didn't wake. Instead his shuffled until his head was resting on the far lower corner of the two pillows on Pastor Jim's guest bed.

John gazed upon his sleeping son with sadness before he focused his attention on the book he now held.

Steadying his nerves, John began to read the first entry like Dean had done before him.

Within a mere minute, he found his eyes blurring with a fresh wave of tears as John felt himself shatter completely as his youngest son's written words registered within his mind. John was now feeling a hundred times worse than when he'd realized that his baby son had slipped away from all of them a mere day before.

John lingered on many words that stood paramount among the sea of letters forming Sam's truth, what he'd actually been feeling after he'd walked away from home, purposely walked from them.

_My plan worked, last night I got myself kicked out of the house, actually, I got myself kicked out of my family all together. _

_Do any of these guys feel like their hearts were ripped out, stomped on, and run through a meat grinder for good measure, or is it only me who feels this way right now? _

_I'm relieved they washed their hands of me._

_They're safer now._

_I won't be around to screw up things like I usually do._

_Dad's got the better son with him to watch his back._

_Things are better this way, with me out of the picture. _

_Lies, all lies. _

_It was all just one big, fucking lie._

_I can still hear Dad's voice in my head. _

_The way he'd screamed at me._

_If I wanted to go, then I'd have to stay gone, I'd never be allowed to come back._

_At least my Dad said something to me._

_My brother didn't say anything to me at all. _

_He didn't say a single word, no "goodbye", no " See ya later." not even a " You're a Goddamn Idiot Sam."_

_I wouldn't have wanted to speak to, let alone be anywhere near me if I were in Dean's place. _

_I hurt my Dad by leaving._

_I hurt Dean more._

_I'm the one who's hurt him the_ _most, all his life._

_Dad always made sure there was a roof over our heads and Dean was the one who always made it home. _

_Between the both of them, they gave me everything I could ever need._

_I repaid them both by lying to them through my teeth, turning my back on them and walking out the door without so much as a glance back. _

_It was never my choice to leave them, it was my only option, it was what I had to do._

_He stood like had once, a very long time ago. To be honest, a whole life-time ago. _

_Did he feel nervous? Did he feel excited? Was he scared about going off to war? _

_Had he ever asked himself if he was doing the right thing? _

_Maybe I should've asked him "out of Curiosity". _

_I knew their cell-phone numbers but I think they've most likely changed them so I can't call anyway._

_I felt like shriveling up and dying right then and there as I spoke into the phone._

_At least I told someone the truth about where I really was, even if it was a machine._

_I wish Dean was here to laugh at me, I'd actually feel better._

_I miss you guys a lot right now more than ever_

_I'm sorry. _

_I love you both. _

_USMC _

_Recruit _

_Samuel Winchester. _

As John sat beside a sleeping Dean, clutching Sam's journal tightly to him, these many words swirled around inside his head in a chaotic vortex. They hammered into the oldest Winchester's mind and soul the horrible mistake he'd made, the horrible crime he'd committed against his own flesh and blood, against both his youngest and oldest sons.

John remembered with sickening clarity, the last words he'd ever spoken to Sam.

_**" YOU WANT TO GO, FINE! GO THEN, BUT IF YOU WALK OUT THAT DOOR DON'T YOU EVER EVEN THINK ABOUT COMING BACK, YA HERE ME, STAY GONE, DON'T YOU EVER COME BACK. YOU WANNA TURN YOUR BACK ON ME AND YOUR BROTHER, WE'LL TURN OUR BACKS ON YOU. NOW GET OUT!!!"**_

Words of rage, words of hurt, words of utter rejection where there should've been immense fatherly pride and joy at his son's accomplishment.

Instead of giving his son any of these things, giving his boy any form of understanding, the only thing John had given Sam... was a terrible ultimatum.

_" Oh God, what have I done?... Why didn't I see through your act Sammy?... How could I have been so blind?"_ Thought John as he sat in the deafening silence, holding the only connection both he and Dean had left to their youngest, their missing peice.

John sat their, feeling fresh tears filled with hot agony burned down his cheeks, it felt as if they were carving into his very flesh.

He'd told his baby to never come back if he walked out that door and now... His baby boy was headed for a place where he could very well end up never come back from...

Alive.

He was supposed to be the most experienced hunter of the Winchester family. He was the one who'd taught both his boys everything about the Supernatural world. He was the one who taught Dean and Sam how to be cunning and clever, to use their heads in any situation that this dark and dangerous world threw at them.

How had he not seen past his youngest son's charade? How hadn't he seen past the temper tantrums, the countless fights and arguments, Sam's sudden desire for a life of normal?

How had he John Winchester, been duped into tearing his family apart? How had he fallen for the lies and acting that ultimately resulted in him tearing his _boys_ apart from _each other_?

At the thought of his boys, John turned to his still sleeping Dean.

John knew full well as he took in the pale and weary face of his oldest son that, Dean had probably asked himself these same questions, and a few of his own.

John felt another was of deep despair wash over him as he remembered what Sam had written in his journal about Dean's reaction to that night, the night he'd walked out the door, with Parris Island as his intended destination, not Stanford University.

Dean hadn't said a single word to his brother, not a word.

That was by far worse than the way John had parted with Sam.

Far far worse.

John felt his heart break anew, for both of his children. John's heart broke for Sam, his baby boy Sammy, who had left the country all together; carrying with him the hurt and guilt his family had misguidedly inflicted on him, upon his very soul. The father's heart broke as he realised that his youngest son still loved him and his big brother even with everything that had gone down between the three of them. That Sam had been relieved that he'd been driven away. That he held no anger towards both his father and his brother. Only love and a deep longing. And now that loving boy was gone, off all by himself to fight in a foreign country, off to fight in a _WAR._

John's heart broke for his still sleeping Dean, who now lay knowing that the last time he'd ever even seen his baby brother, he hadn't told him anything, just glared at him and then walked away. The father's heart broke as he realised that Dean now carried with him the monumental weight of knowing that he himself had turned his back on his baby brother, had hurt him so deeply by saying nothing. John at least had the echoes of his son's voice, though filled with false defiance and anger, it was imprinted in his mind. Dean had nothing save for the way Sam's face had looked before he'd finished packing his back and all but running out the door and now a very abrupt, mechanical sounding message on Pastor Jim's answering machine that sounded nothing like his younger sibling's voice.

John bowed his head in sorrow as images of those he loved above all else assaulted his mind.

His oldest boy Dean.

His baby boy Sam.

... His beloved wife Mary.

God, he'd failed all of them by allowing himself to be fooled by his own hurt and stubborn, Winchester pride.

John was so lost in his melancholy he didn't see a pair of hazel-green eyes slowly flutter open and blink a few times, banishing the remnants of sleeps hold.

Once the blur of sleep cleared from his eyes, Dean immediately zeroed his gaze on his father who was sitting in the chair beside him.

Dean felt his heart freeze for a moment as his eyes took in the sight of fresh tear tracks gracing his father's cheeks. The hazel-green gaze shifted and fell on the journal that John was clutching to his chest in a white knuckled grip.

Dean instantly felt his eyes begin to burn and with a painful swallow against the lump that had formed in his throat, he forced himself to speak, though what managed to float past his constricted throat was no more than just an octave above a whisper.

" D-Dad?"

John jerked, startled by the soft, uncharacteristically timid voice of his oldest son. His attention was immediately focused in his child.

Father and oldest son stared at each other, time seeming only a distant memory as to pairs of grieving, regretfull eyes stared at each other.

It was Dean who broke the nearly suffocating silence. His voice still uncharacteristically not like the Dean Winchester that everyone knew and loved.

" What are we supposed to do Dad?"

To John, it felt as thought his boy, twenty-two in age, was back to being a four year old, asking him how they were going to move on after his mother had died, what was gonna happen, sounding so unsure of what lay ahead.

Momentarily hardening his heart, John cleared his throat loudly and reached up to scrub at the drying tracks of salt that graced his face before he spoke, trying his with all his will to keep his voice as steady as he could.

" T-There isn't much we can do Dean. Caleb and Bobby are both coming here to Blue Earth, they'll be here in a few days wanting to know the full story."

Dean lowered his head in contemplation before he spoke his thoughts, his voice a little stronger than before.

" But Dad, we don't know the full story, we don't know why Sammy did what he did, we don't now how he is now, we don't know what he went through for the last five months, we don't even know where... where Sammy's gonna be once he... gets there."

Dean for once, was having trouble saying something, something as simple as the name of a country.

" Sammy said the answer to why is here, in this journal." Said John as he glanced down at his youngest son's journal that he was still holding possessively in his hand before he spoke.

" And as for what he went through these last few months and where he's gonna be once his plane lands, we go find the person who does know."

Dean eyed the fiery determination burning anew in his father's eyes before he spoke, feeling himself also fill with a need for wanting answers.

" Who Dad, who do we ask?"

With a small huff and looking his oldest son dead in the eye, John answered Dean question with unwavering conviction.

" The Drill Sergeant Sammy wrote about in his first entry. The Head Drill Sergeant of Parris Island itself."


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 19

_" Welcome To South Carolina The Palmetto State" _

Five pairs of eyes watched as the large, colorful road sign passed by.

These five eyes belonged to the five very weary and very anxious demon hunters known as John and Dean Winchester, Pastor James Murphy, Caleb Reeves, and Bobby Singer. These five men were piled into Caleb Reeves's green SUV, the most spacious among the five vehicles that had been available, the other four: John's pick-up truck, Dean's Chevy Impala, Pastor Jim's Honda Civic, and Bobby's beat up Ford truck were not capable of accomodating the five grown men in need of transportation... obviously.

Caleb was dutifully behind the wheel of his car with Bobby Singer sitting across from him in the front passenger seat. In the back, Pastor Jim and John Winchester sat with Dean sandwiched between them. After the road sign had been passed, Dean's eyes were once again focused solely on what he was holding in his hands.

His Sammy's journal.

The radio wasn't turned on and the car windows were shut against the cold January air they were driving through. These five men sat in silence save for the occasional sneeze, cough, sigh, or turning of the page from Dean who sat with his head bowed in reading. He'd brought his baby brother's journal with him for the " Trip to Truth" as it could be dubbed, they had after all, just entered the state of South Carolina, where the Marine Corps Recruit Depot was located.

The place that hopefully held some much desired answers for the stricken Winchester family about their missing peice.

From where he sat, Dean felt all together down and crumbling. Sure, he'd managed to force himself to read past the first and truely heart-wrenching entry in his brother's journal and what he was reading now wasn't as emotionally traumatic as that entry had been but, that was just it... This was just a peice of his baby brother, something Sam left behind for his family to have. It was a _book_, it didn't have a heart beat, it didn't have a dimpled smile, it didn't look back at anyone with deep and loving moss green eyes, it couldn't hug Dean back and melt the block of ice his soul was rpidly becoming...

It wasn't Sam himself.

It was just a book filled with the thoughts, the words, the longing, and the deep pain really of a young, eighteen year old kid who was now a full-fledged member of the United States Marine Corp, a young soldier who had been deployed for war in the desert lands of the Middle East... four days ago.

The five men, seasoned hunters of the Supernatural, sat in silence. Both because no one really knew what to say, and knowing that there were no words to make any of this right. The only thing, the only person that could've made this entired fucked up situation right, had slipped through all of their fingers using misguided anger and clever misdirection.

Slipped away like a water slipping through the fingers of a hand.

From where he sat with his eyes gazing forelornly out the window to his right, John could help but smirk inwardly and with no humor at how sneaky his baby boy had been to pull something like this off.

It was a stunt only a true Winchester could pull off.

But, the smirk was quickly replaced with sadness and the kind of longing only a parent could feel as the image of a smiling, happy, chubby one year old little boy with curly, blondish-brown hair and his arms raised up, wanting to be picked up and held flashed across John's mind.

A small sigh escaped John as his mind's eyes saw this long passed image of his second child before he minutely turned his head to gaze at his first born child out the corner of his eye.

Over the last four days, Dean had been volleying between seeking his father out for comfort and trying to rip his old man to shreds.

Teetering between to completely opposite and very volatile emotional states.

But now, sitting in Caleb's car with Pastor Jim and his father flanking him on either side, he was silently neutral with both deep sorrow and quiet rage simmering within him.

The second he saw this Head Drill Sergeant Mike Goodman, he was gonna tear the man a new one for letting his brother go through with becoming a Marine, for allowing Sam to get himself shipped off to War.

Dean Winchester was beyond angry and his focus for blame fell on the trinity that consisted of his father John, Sergeant Mike Goodman, and Sammy himself.

Dean Winchester was angry, and the timer for the bomb that was his temper was steadily ticking away for each minute that passed by as they drew nearer and nearer to where Parris Island was located, in Beaufort.

Caleb, Bobby, and Pastor Jim were all finding themselves feeling nervous and worried for the father and son they were currently riding with.

They could hardly believe the recent turn of events and revelations that had basically crashed over them like a tidal wave.

Sure they felt shocked and scared for Sam but, they new that what they were feeling was nothing compared to what John and Dean were probably feeling inside.

They were here to lend support to their friends of many year and also make sure the famous, feiry Winchester temper didn't go off and burn all of South Carolina to the ground.

After a good twenty minutes, Dean couldn't bring himself to read Sam's journal any further, unknowingly stopping just a page shy of finding his baby brother's first letter to the mother he had no memory of, the late Mary Winchester.

What he'd read so far wasn't as bad as that first entry but, it was still pulsing with the true loneliness and sadness Sam had been feeling and hiding behind a bright grin.

" Can I see it?" Came John Winchester's gruff voice, his hand pointing at the book Dean had just closed.

Dean silently handed his father the journal, glancing at his old man before averting his gaze ahead, taking in the view of the South Carolina scenery that the windshield of Caleb's SUV provided.

John scanned the pages after the first entry, absorbing his youngest son's thoughts and experiences through the words that had been written.

He smiled inwardly as these words brought back memories of his own experiences while he'd been training to become a Marine and fight in the Vietnam War.

But like Dean, John only managed a few pages before he couldn't bring himself to go any further and discover the letter his boy had written to his beloved Mary.

And thankfully, when John had closed the journal, Bobby's voice broke through the silence.

" There's the gates of Parris Island up just ahead." Said the seasoned hunter while pointing with his finger.

The three men in the backseats were immediately alert and leaning forwards for a better view of their fast approaching destination.

Indeed, Parris Island was a sight in itself.

The large brick wall that that the green SUV drove by, held the gates and stood out with its red paint and gold letters that read:

U.S. MARINE CORP RECRUIT DEPOT PARRIS ISLAND SOUTH CAROLINA.

Beneath these words were two large, golden USMC eblems that had been securely bolted into the brick.

Caleb followed the signs that led to the check point where a Marine Guard received them.

" Good afternoon Sir, may I see some identification and ask your reasons for visiting Parris Island today?" Asked the Marine in standard military fashion.

Caleb pulled out the necessary ID and then spoke.

" Hi, we're all here to actually get some information about a young marine, he graduated from here in December, could you tell me where we can find a..." Caleb trailed off and turned to the two Winchesters behind him to get the name he was supposed to ask.

John whispered it to him before Caleb turned back around to the patiently waiting guard.

" Where can we find a Sergeant Goodman?" Finished Caleb, looking just a little sheepish.

The Marine remained stoic and gave a small nod before he spoke and then pointed.

" Sir, Sergeant Micheal Goodman in the Head Drill Sergeant of Parris Island. Alright then, keep heading straight until you reach the main building where new recruits are received, you'll know which on it is because there will be yellow foot prints painted onto the pavement infront of the building. There is also a parking lot a little to the side for visitors. I will call ahead and inform Sergeant Goodman that you are here to see him, he should be in his office at this time."

" Thank you." Said Caleb while the four other men in the car gave nods and mumbles or thanks before they drove off in the instructed direction with the Gaurd turning and grabbing the phone that hung in the wall of the security booth to ring up Sergeant Goodman and inform him of his impending meeting with the family of Corporal Samuel Winchester.

Caleb drove until the mentioned building came into sight, all five sets of eyes falling of the distinctive yellow foot-prints painted on the sidewalk perpendicular to the main staircase that led into the building.

Feeling nervousness and every other emotion that had been kept at bay for the past few days slowly begining to fall back down on them, the five men eagerly waited for Caleb to turn into the parking lot and turn the car off.

The second the doors were unlocked, John and Dean all but dove out of the SUV with Sam's journal tucked snuggly under his father's coat. John and Dean were all but barreling towards the front steps.

" John and Dean Winchester you wait just a minute DAMMIT!!!" Boomed Bobby Singer's deep voice.

Both Winchesters stopped midstep and jerked around, sending annoyed glares their fellow hunter's way.

Bobby, Caleb, and Pastor Jim quickly hurried their strides to close the distance between themselves and the father and oldest son who's emotions were in quiet but full blown turmoil.

" John, Dean, there's no way in hell we're letting you both just barge up those steps so you can rip that unsuspecting Sergeant to shreds." Said Caleb as he eyed Dean and John with stern eyes before Pastor Jim spoke up.

" I know the both of you are angry, I know the both of you are worried and scared out of your minds but you have to keep a cool head about this. You both loosing it isn't gonna solve anything and it won't get you the answers we _all_ need about that youngest boy of yours."

Caleb and Bobby nodded at Pastor Jim's words of reason as the three of then watched both John and Dean clench their jaws and let the Pastor's words flow through the gears in their heads.

Much to the relief of their three family friends and fellow hunters, John and Dean both sighed and relaxed in defeat, knowing that what was said was true, loosing it wasn't gonna get them anywhere.

" Well c'mon then, lets not waste anymore time here with this little Pow Wow." Grumbled Dean as he strode with purpose past his father and onward towards the main staircase of the receiving building with John, Pastor Jim, Bobby, and Caleb hurrying after him.

The walk up the stairs was both the longest and the shortest walk any of them had ever taken. Dean himself felt like his insides were turning into ice, his fingers were unfeeling as they gripped the handle of the building's front door. Battling back the urge to smash the glass and metal door, Dean pulled it open and held it for the older men of the group, not just out of courtesy, but also to give himself a few precious minutes to reign in the burning hot rage that was beginning to thaw through the icyness that caccooned his soul.

Dean followed in after the four older men were safely inside the buidling. The five men stood silent and tense as they waited for someone to greet them and also a little unsure of what to do.

Then, Pastor Jim caught sight of a man, tall and stone-face, wearing a greenish brown MarPat uniform and his dirty blonde hair buzzed in the signature ' JarHead ' hair cut.

" Hey, heads up." Alerted the Pastor.

Dean, John, Caleb, and Bobby all turned and followed Pastor Jim's gaze, zeroing in on the serious looking Marine walking towards them with purpouse.

The five rag-tag hunters stepped forward as one to meet the Military man as he quickly closed the distance between them with Dean and John at the forefront.

The two colliding forces came to a halt just a good two steps from each other.

The two Winchesters stared at the lone Marine, trying to muster as much hardness and intimidation within their gazes as they all but glared daggers at the man.

But, much to their frustration and silent, begrudging respect, the Marine stared at them unfazed and with eyes as steady a steele.

The silence dominated the air around the six men standing in the lobby of the Receiving building before it was broken by the Marine.

" It's about damn time the both of you showed up. I am Sergeant Mike Goodman, Head Drill Sergeant of Parris Island." Sighed Sergeant Goodman as he stared unwavering at John and Dean. His expression went from neutral to slightly sad and melancholy.

He watched with mild amusement as the faces of the five men before him took on expressions of surprise and shock.

" How- How did you..." Dean began when Goodman expertly cut him off.

" You five gentlemen are here in regards to the whereabouts of one Corporal Samuel Winchester... I was expecting just two of you but, this is indeed a much better turn out. If you'd all be so kind as to follow me to my office, I'll be happy to answer what ever questions you'd all like to have answered." Said Goodman with the ghost of amusement gracing his face as he turned and beckoned his five still somewhat stunned guests to follow him.

It took the five of them a moment to get their bearings before Dean and John took the first steps and followed after Sereant Goodman, Bobby, Caleb, and Pastor Jim faithfully following after them.

The walk to Goodman's office was made in tense silence with Dean and John trying to keep their emotions in check and stop themselves from throwing all of the questions swirling around the tips of their tounges all at once at the Drill Sergeant who's back they were all visually boring holes into.

They walked until finally, Goodman stopped before an open doorway and turned around to face them and spoke with a small gesture of his hand.

" After you."

with mute nods, John, Dean, Bobby, Caleb, and Pastor Jim filed into the office followed closely by Sergeant Goodman.

John and Dean took the two fabric cushioned chairs in front of the office desk while Caleb, Bobby, and Pastor Jim took their seats on the small sofa that stood beside the right side of the doorway.

Sergeant Goodman closed the door and walked over and around his desk to take a seat behind it.

There was silence again, John and Dean not really knowing how to start when Sergeant Goodman spoke up.

" Now, before I answer any questions, I can already surmise that the two of you sitting before me are Cpl. Winchester's father and older sibling, John and Dean Winchester but, may I ask who you three gentlemen over on the couch are and what is your relationship to Cpl. Winchester?" Asked the Drill Sergeant with curt sterness.

John and Dean turned to see Caleb, Bobby, and Pastor Jim sit up straighter in their seats as they answered, with Caleb speaking first.

" My name's Caleb Reeves, I'm a friend of the family and I've known Sam since he was two years old."

Then Bobby answered.

" Robert Singer, I'm also a friend of the family, known the boy since he was five. He and his family often stay at my house between his father's jobs."

And finally, Pastor Jim.

" I'm Pastor James Murphy, I'm the person Sam called when he'd first arrived here at Parris Island."

At this, Sergeant Goodman's brow knitted and his eyes hardened. His voice was cold as he spoke.

" So, you're the priest then. Don't take this the wrong way but, may I ask why you were absent throughout Corporal Winchester's time here as a recruit, you should've at the very least been there for him during the end of his Basic Training for Family Day and graduation, where were you?

Pastor Jim blanched considerably at this question and felt an immense wave of guilt wash over him. Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, he answered Goodman's question.

" Sir, I was out of the country in England these last five months, I only found Sam's message a few days ago when his father and brother arrived at my house for a visit. I had no idea he was here, let alone that he joined the Marines. If I'd known, as God is my witness, I'd have been here for that foolish boy."

Sergeant Goodman's eyes grew wide at this revelation before he bowed his head and sighed.

" So then, that child truely didn't have anyone knowing about him being here."

The five other men in the room felt themselves drooping in sadness with their gazes going to the floor.

Yes, they were guilty of not being there for Sam when they should've been.

The six men sat in silent melancholy before Dean cleared his throat and made his voice known.

" Tell me where my little brother is now." He all but demanded, his eyes focused on Sergeant Goodman.

Goodman looked back up and met a pair of hazel-green eyes that were quietly blazing with fury, determination, fear, desperation, and above all... love.

With a small nod, Sergeant Goodman answered.

" Your brother and his batallion are stationed in Fallujah, Iraq, just West of Baghdad. The planes they were on landed safely onto Iraqi soil early yesterday morning."

Dean blinked in acknowledegment before John finally spoke.

" Sergeant Goodman, can you tell us about what happened to my son after he graduated from here?"

Goodman's gaze turned to John, he'd been expecting to feel ager towards this man for driving his son away all because he'd thought the kid was going off to college but, anger dicipated into quiet simpathy and sadness, for both this man and the younger man sitting next to him.

They both looked pale and wrecked, heart broken really.

And after all, Sam had told him the truth. Goodman couldn't blame them, they hadn't known.

Hell, the father himself looked like he was ready to burst into tears.

With another sigh, Goodman spoke.

" As you hopefully know by now that your son was meritoriously awarded the rank of Lance Corporal. He graduated with top fitness and markmanship honors. He has since then been promoted to the rank of Corporal shortly before his deployement. After the Graduation Ceremony, I found him sitting alone in the empty barrack he'd been assigned to on his first night here. I think, that was the first time he'd allowed himself to let the loneliness and for lack or a better word, despair wash over him." At this point, Goodman paused to pin the two eldest Winchesters, with a look, making them squirm a little before he continued.

" He was so lost in it, he didn't even notice me walking into the barrack until I was sitting on the cot in front of him. I asked upfront why he wasn't on his way home like the rest of his class. His exact words to me were- _There's no home for me to go back to and I don't know where my family is and I have no way of finding them_. After that, he said the both of you weren't to blame. That it was his fault. He told me the truth, that you two didn't come because you were angry with him, it was because you didn't know he was here, that he joined the Corps. He told me that, the both you couldn't know that he was here, or that he was going off to war."

It was here that Goodman paused again and gaged the reactions of his audience.

There was horror, abject misery, disbelief, and mortification etched into the lines of all five faces.

But it was Dean's expression that surpassed the others, on top of all the mentioned emotions, there was quiet and utter devastation radiating from the young man seated before Sergeant Goodman.

Steadying his own emotions, Goodman continued.

" On top of that, he said that y'all were better off without him, safer. He even went so far as to say that, he didn't think you'd be proud of him, that you'd just be pissed as hell at him."

Several loud and sharp intakes of breath stopped Goodman, he watched with silent, grim but sad satisfaction as the expressions of horror grew tenfold over the faces of Dean, John, Bobby, Caleb, and Pastor Jim.

" Anyway, after that I sent him off to Camp Geiger two weeks ahead of everyone else for an accelerated Linguistics course and from the report that was sent to me a few weeks ago, his instructors were very impressed and very pleased at Cpl. Winchester's adaptive capabilities. According to the report, he's near perfectly fluent in Arabic and Kurdish. Well... that's about it." Said Goodman.

" Have I answered the question to your satisfaction?" He added as he gazed at John with mild expectation.

All John could manage was a weak nod. The oldest Winchester was numb save for the way his heart felt like it was being peirced by millions upon millions of sharp, metal needles.

Dean sat with his jaw clenched tightly shut, using every ounce of his will to fight back the nausea that was persistently slithering its way up into the back of his throat. His vapor locked mind could only think up one coherent thought amidst the chaos it had descended into after Goodman's words had registered.

_" Aww Sammy, how the fuck could you think that, let alone say it man. Have you lost your mind completely?"_

For the three stunned men sitting on the sofa, there was a monsterous roaring within their ears and their jaws were hanging loose and open in astonishment. In addition, Pastor Jim's eyes were already swimming in tears.

Silence reigned over every single man in the room before Sergeant Goodman spoke yet again.

" Listen, I can give you a contact number for the Patrol base that's been set up just outside of Fallujah, it's where Cpl. Winchester and the platoon he's with have been assigned a barrack tent, there's a running phoneline so you might be able to finally talk to him. But, I suggest you try calling sometime during the evening seeing as to how there's an eight our time difference. And I must also advise you that Cpl. Winchester and his platoon are on Night Patrol so, day time's the best window of opportunity to catch him."

Goodman watched as five pairs of eyes, filling with the sincerest of gratitude gazed back at him as he quickly grabbed a pen and a notepad.

He carefully wrote down the number and deftly tore the page free.

Dean instinctively reached out for it but, Goodman held it back and out of reach as he spoke.

" Before I give this to you, there's something **I** need an answer for."

The five other men waited with bated breath for the Sergeant to continued.

" I can see that the two of you are pissed as Hell, but are you proud of him, are you proud of the marine he has become?" Asked Sergeant Goodman, his eyes burning bright with a feirceness that nearly rivaled the looks that had settled over the faces of John and Dean Winchester as this question registered within their minds.

A fire ignited within the souls of these two men, a fire of truth that temporarily filled the voids within them and banished the eternal winter that had settled over them for the past five months.

It was John who stood up to his full height at spoke, his voice deep, and strong, but above all, filled with pride that was long overdue.

" Sergeant Goodman, Hell yeah I'm pissed at that boy of mine, he lied to us but, I've always been proud of him, and I'm proud of him beyond words, now more than ever. He's shaping out to be a better Marine than I myself ever was. But with all due respect, it's not you I should be saying these words to so if you don't mind, could you hand over that number. _Please?_" John gritted out this last word, his anger and frustration quiet evident now as he all but glared at the Drill Sergeant sitting across from him.

Dean turned and glanced at his father

The five other men watched as a small, satisfied smirk turned one corner of Goodman's lips upward as he stood and held out the simple peice of paper, the key to a channel of communication between an eighteen year old kid, and the family he'd left behind.

This time, Dean all but snatched the paper out of Goodman's hand and held it tightly in his hands.

The three men in the back stood and waited for the two Winchesters to lead the way out when Goodman spoke.

" I hope y'all can knock some sense through that thick skull your boy possesses. Heaven knows he won't survive long in a place like Iraq if he continues to function with the mindset he left with."

John and Dean nodded mutely and accepted the hand that Goodman held out for them to shake, mumbling quiet thank yous before Goodman bid them farewell and goodluck.

The five hunters quickly made their way out of the building, John and Dean felt their hopes rising with each step but, now came the part they hated with a passion.

Waiting for the right time to call and finally hear their Sammy's voice and to also verbally trounce the idiot.

Waiting for the right time to call.

_Meanwhile, on a dirt road just outside Fallujah, Iraq..._

Corporal Samuel Winchester adjusted the grip on his M16 combat rifle as he walked behind Sergeant York, the highest ranking officer and platoon leader.

Sam himself was second highest in rank.

It was 8:00 at night here in Iraq, there wasn't a single cloud in the sky so the stars were beginning to shine without obscurity.

Right now, Sam and his platoon of twenty men including Rashad Mathers, Greg Roginski, Mark Twombly, and Mathew Ruiz were on an evening patrol detail that spanned the circumference of Fallujah.

Sam and the guys had arrived to this ancient but war-torn land the day before. The sun was scorching during the day and the air was dry. Desert sand surrounded the ground forces on all sides.

But, as he walked dutifully in line and with constant alertness, Sam couldn't help but think that, this was a land with a timeless beauty to it, with a richness that went back centuries.

And it troubled him to know that, this beauty would soon be painted red wih blood and violence.

It troubles him to know that, beauty would be ravaged by war, and he would see the true dangers of this new, foreign land.

Any day now.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 20

After their very revealing and highly charged meeting with Sergeant Goodman, the five somewhat emotionally drained men drove all the way out of the state of South Carolina and didn't stop till they actually reached Port Royal, Kentucky where Caleb owned a small house.

They'd be spending the night.

A necessary stop on the journey back to Pastor Jim's place in Blue Earth, Minnesota.

They'd basically driven through the states of South and North Carolina, Tennesse, and almost through the state of Kentucky by the time the sun itself had begun to set.

For John and Dean, the sun couldn't set fast enough for their liking.

They were so wound up, neither man noticed Sam's journal where it was safely tucked into the holder on the inside of the door. Through the many hours of driving with Caleb and Bobby switching places every few hours, all five men were hoping and wondering about what would happen once the sun disappeared under the horizon and the ever looming call would be made.

What were they gonna say to the young Marine?

What were Dean and John gonna say to their youngest one?

John couldn't help but wonder.

Would his baby son be able to forgive him for those heartless and cruel words he'd screamed at him that night he'd walked out the door?

Would his Sammy forgive him?

Dean couldn't help but wonder.

Would his baby brother forgive him for not saying anything to him that God-aweful night five months ago, giving his brother nothing but cold silence and an angry glare?

Would his Sammy forgive him?

From where he sat, Pastor Jim was silently praying to the Lord of all Creation, praying that no harm befell the youngest Winchester whit he was patrolling before they could call and finally talk to him. What made Pastor Jim pray all the more mightily was the knowledge that, Sam was on Night Patrol. That meant that, the young man would be walking through darkness, surrounded by the night and the dangers both human and supernatural it hid beneath its many shadowy veils.

Yeah sure, Sam could fend off the human dangers, the insurgents and terrorists and keep innocent civilians safe from harm but...

What about the supernatural?

The Pastor knew from his experiences in England that the spooks and other things that go bump in the night don't just make the U.S. of A their playground.

What if that boy encountered something out there amidst the sand dunes and camel caravans that couldn't be taken out with regular bullets from an M16 assault rifle?

Pastor Jim sat and prayed in silence, prayed with ferver, prayed with every fiber in his being.

At long last, after Caleb weaved his way through the familiar streets of the suburb he'd set up 'home' in, the house that he seldom lived in save for a weeks at a time to rest up or to recover from injuries that were common in Hunting, came into view.

With a small sigh, Caleb pulled his SUV into the driveway and once the car was turned off, it's five weary passengers disembarked with their muscles stiff and aching from having been sitting for many hours on end.

For Dean and John, the physical ache was nothing compared to the ache that had settled over their hearts.

They still had a seven hour wait before they would be able to call Sam and finally hear there youngest one's voice.

John and Dean, who was clutching Sam's journal, followed Caleb, Bobby, and Pastor Jim into the small, two story house.

Seven hours.

Dean left the older men and opted to trudge up the stairs and retreat to one of Caleb's guestroom so he could force himself to continue reading through his baby brother's journal.

He left, with the sad and concerned eyes of his father, Pastor Jim, Caleb, and Bobby following as he disappeared up the stairs.

" He still got the number with him." Obsurved Bobby.

" It's safe with him." Sighed John as he and his long time friends settled into Caleb's mismatched furniture filled livingroom.

" I'll go put some coffee on." Said Caleb as he stood up and headed for the kitchen.

" You've got to be kidding Reeves." Grumbled Bobby in mild outrage.

Caleb turned confused eyes to the his three guest and they pinned him with a look.

" Alright, alright... I'll go and break out the Jack Daniel's." Said Caleb with a roll of his eyes as he walked off into the kitchen to break out the hard liquor.

Meanwhile, upstairs in one of Caleb's guestrooms, Dean wearily sunk onto the queensized mattress, his back propted up against the headboard as he stared down at the journal clutched in his hands.

" Why the hell's it so hard for me to open a simple goddamn book?" Muttered a very unhappy Dean under his breath, the nerve to simply open the book in his hands having already left him and them come back, only to leave again over the last few minutes.

Dean was about to just toss the journal onto the bed and go back downstairs, where he'd find all of the senior hunters drinking Jack Daniels and take a few shots of the strong alcohol himself when a face flashed across his mind.

Deep moss-green eyes that seemed bottomless and filled with every kind of human emotion.

Shaggy, chocolate brown hair that was usually refused to be cut, no matter how many time their owner was asked, now all gone save for the stubble of a JarHead cut.

A bright smile that could light up a whole room, with dimples so deep, they'd make any woman swoon.

Dean felt a tell-tale ache in his heart as his mind's eye saw this face.

Sammy.

His puppy-dog eyed Sammy.

The baby brother who was now a soldier in war.

Feeling his resolve return and this time not allowing it to flee again, Dean willed his hands to move as they pulled apart the covers of the book, th pages falling away and opening to the place where Dean had carefully folded a corner of the page he'd left off at. The book lay ready and waiting for hazel-green eyes to gaze over the words written and comprehend the meaning they held.

Dean skimmed over the page with the fold and realised he'd already read through this page.

Naturally, he turned the page onto it's other side and found both his heart and body freezing as his eyes fell on the first words at the upper left hand coner of the page. The words were...

_' Dear Mom.' _

" Aww... Sammy, no." Came Dean's pained whisper as he realised that this was a letter addressed to the late Mary Winchester.

Their Mom.

Once these first two words registered in his mind, Dean's eyes were transfixed as they continued onward to the words after _Dear Mom_, finally beginning to read the first letter Sam had written to the mother he had no memory of.

_Dear Mom,_

_Hi mom, it's me Sam. I guess this is the first time I've ever really spoken to you directly. I hope you can forgive me if I seem a little awkward. There is so much I wanna tell you, so much I wanna ask but, I know that I'll never get to hear your voice, I'll never get to hear you answer any of my questions. On top of that, I only know what you looked like when you were alive from old photos. You were very beautiful by the way. _

_Dad didn't stand a chance. _

_It's unfair that you were ripped away from Dad, from Dean, and... From me. _

_You probably know where I am right now as I'm writing this letter, you must also know how I tricked Dad and Dean into thinking I was going to Stanford University instead of here to Parris Island. _

_I get the feeling that, if you weren't up in Heaven, you'd be smacking me up upside my head and dragging me outta here yourselfm just like Dad or Dean would. _

_Anyway, I've been here at Parris Island for about a week now. It's not badm I'm working hard and doing my best. Plus, the food here's better than take-out and Dean's non-existant cooking skills, although he could always make a decent Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich. _

_Here in this place, it kinda feels like growing up again with Dad, except there aren't any Wendigos or Werewolves trying to tear me a new one. But, the Drill Instructors around here come pretty close. It's like thery were born to shatter eardrums or something. _

_You'd probably frown on Dad for raising me and Dean the way he did but, it's okay and I don't think I could've made it this far alone if I didn't have what Dad and Dean taught me.__This place, it reminds me of him in a weird way. _

_I miss him alot right now, I miss Dean, and I miss you Mom._

_But then again, I've been missing you all my life, since I could understand what death was. _

_Somedays, I even wonder if maybe things would've been better if I hadn't come along and screwed up the wonderful life you guys all had before me. _

_I'm probably hurting you by saying all this. _

_I hurt by brother, I hurt my father, and now I'm hurting my mother who's not even alive anymore. _

_Why do I keep hurting those I love? _

_Anyway, I gotta go now, eventhough I'm not gonna get any reply, it was nice writing to you Mom. I'll write some more to you later. _

_Your Son,_

_**Sam**_

_P.S. Before I go, I want you to know that I'm sorry, for everything and I love you very much. I think that even though I couldn't remember you, no matter how hard I tried to that deep down, it never mattered, I've always loved you Mommy. I hope that where ever you are, you're happy and at peace. _

Dean looked up with eyes swimming in fresh tears as the door to the guestroom slowly creeked open with John Winchester poking his head into the room.

" Hey Dean, it Dad, do you want any-" John began to ask but stopped when his eyes fell on his oldest son's tearfilled eyes and anguished face.

" Dean, what is it, what's wrong?" Asked John, concern flaring instantly as he slipped into the room and made his way over to the bed where Dean was sitting.

" D-Dad it's... I-it's nothing I just... I just read some more of Sammy's journal and..." Dean trailed off as he held out the journal to his father, his eyes averting to stare intently at his lap.

John took the book into his own hands, his eyes immediately seeking out the words written by his youngest child onto the white pages.

Dean looked up when his ears caught the sound of a sharp intake of breath.

He watched as his father's eyes grew impossibly wide and filled with bitter saline as his face began to crumble more and more with each word that was read.

" Aww my god, Sammy." Said John, his voice conveying the new pain that had settled over him as the words his youngest child had written to a mother he had no memory of registered in his mind.

John gazed at the journal, completely shattered once again.

After he quickly reread the letter, John found his gaze immediately zeroing in on his tearful oldest boy.

Releasing a shaky breath, John reached out and clamped his hand onto Dean's left shoulder, firmly squeezing it as he spoke.

" Just a few more hours... We'll be able to call him then, say what needs to be said."

Dean nodded and swallowed painfuly, a few tears leaking out of his eyes as he spoke.

" Y-Yeah, what time... What time do you think it'd be best?" He asked as he gazed imploringly at his father.

" Well, you heard Sergeant Goodman, it's an eight hour time difference so, maybe around ten or eleven should be a good time." Answered John, trying to be a little logical.

" That's still five hours of waiting. I hate waiting." Sighed Dean sadly as he reached out and covered his father's hand on his shoulder with his own, father and oldest son trying to draw strength and comfort from each other.

" I know son, I hate waiting too." Sighed John as he tightened his grip on Dean's shoulder with one hand and tightened his grip on Sam's journal with the other.

Just five more hours.

Five more hours after months of searching and not knowing.

Just five more hours.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 21

The sun peaked over the horizon, signaling the start of a new, scorching hot day over the desert lands of Iraq.

Cpl. Samuel Winchester let out a small grumble as he rolled the stiff muscles of his shoulders as he walked in formation with the other marines of his patrol detail as they walked up the road that led back to the U. S. Military base that had been set up just outside of Fallujah, it was gonna be home for all of them for the next two years.

It was the end of a successful and thankfully uneventful Night Patrol around the city of Fallujah. Now, the tired patrolers were headed home for some breakfast and a few hours of sleep.

" Goodwork guys, now I want y'all fed and rested by the time we are required to be heading into the city itself. I'll see you in a few." Said Sergeant Byron York as he broke away from the group of young marines under his command and headed off towards the main headquarters tent to give in the patrol report.

" Yes Sir." Called out the junior marines in their commanding officer's wake.

" Well, you heard Sgt. York, lets go and find us some chow." Grinned PFC. Greg Roginski.

" Heh, food's probably the one thing you've been looking forward to all night long ya bottomless pit." Drawled Rashad Mathers with a small smirk.

" Ah, go stun gun ya'self Mathers." Grumbled back Greg in mock annoyance. A few seconds later he was grinning from ear to ear.

From where he stood with his M16 safely hanging against the right side of his desert MARPAT combat uniform, Cpl. Sam Winchester chuckled quietly to himself at his two friends and their snarky, brotherly antics.

The 18 year old marine's chuckles tappered off into a small, sad sigh as the good-natured teasing naturally brought up memories of a certain smart-ass older brother of his back home in the States.

Dean.

His big brother Dean.

Cpl. Winchester felt the dull ache in his heart resurface once again.

In fact, it was the same residual ache that had plagued the young Marine throughout the whole of the previous night, even while he was still being ever vigilant and alert during his duties on Night Patrol.

The patrol had begun at 8:00 at night, it was now a couple of minutes to 7:00 in the morning.

A full twelve hours of walking, being on edge, and just praying to make it through the night alive and greet tomorrow, only to do the same thing all over again.

Now, Sam was looking forward to getting some much needed food into his stomach and catching a few hours of much needed sleep to combat the bone-deep weariness that was threatening to engulf him and his fellow marines.

Sam led the way into the Mess-Tent while all twenty of them pulled off their Kevlar helmets and putting the Safety on all of their M16 Assault Rifles as they grabbed food trays and got in line.

The Tent wasn't very crowded so all twenty members managed to grab a table for themselves.

" Man, last night was a huge bore." Grumbled Mark Twombly as he drove his fork into a peice of sausage.

" Just wait and see Twombly, in no time at all you're gonna wish everything was as quiet as it was last night." Shot back Sam quietly as he took a bite out of a pancake.

Several heads nodded in agreement to their second in command's words.

The rest of the meal was spent talking about the night and just being guys who were thankful to come back alright... for now.

The ominouse future however, never strayed far and in the backs of their minds, all twenty of these young guys were wondering what the future had in store for them.

They all knew that it wasn't gonna be pretty.

Sam finished his breakfast before the others and bid them temporary farewell as he headed off to get some sleep in the barrack tent that had been assigned to his Unit.

Sam nodded and gave quiet morning greetings to any marine who passed his way, with each step, he wanted sleep more and more.

Just as he was gonna step over the theshold of the tent and hit the sac, a voice wrought with urgency shot the air and called out his name.

" Hey Winchester wait up!"

Sam turned to see one of his fellow young marines running towards him.

It was PFC. Ben Wilson from the second platoon of Sam's battalion.

" What's up Wilson?" Asked Sam as the other marine came to stand before him with a small huff.

" Hey man, listen, ya better go to the phone tent. Ya got a call waitin' for ya." Answered Wilson with his thick New York accent.

Sam felt his heart slam to a grinding halt within his chest as his entire body went numb with shock.

There was no doubt in his mind just exactly who was calling him.

With a small swallow of his throat to loosen the rapidly constricting muscles, Sam spoke.

" Y-Yeah, I'll be right there, thanks for telling me." Said Sam quietly before he hurried off towards the direction of the Phone Tent, leaving a slightly concerned Ben Wilson in his wake.

Sam's heart lurched back to life and pounded like a thundering drum in his ears with each step the youngest Winchester numbly took.

_Meanwhile, back at Caleb Reeves's house in Port Royal, Kentucky..._

Five very anxious men, who also happened to be Demon Hunters sat in the livingroom of Caleb's small two-story house.

John Winchester, Pastor Jim Murphy, Bobby Singer, and Caleb Reeves all sat in a semi-circle aroung Dean Winchester, who had Caleb's main phone pressed to his ear.

It was 11:00 PM here in Kentucky, marking the end of five excruciating hours of having to wait to do something as simple as making a phone-call.

Said phone-call had been made a good ten-minutes ago. A stranger's stoic and mechanical voice had greeted Dean's ear before the oldest Winchester brother shakily stated the purpose of this over-seas call to Fallujah, Iraq.

He'd then been told to wait while the call was re-routed.

Now all five men were waiting with bated breath, and twisting stomachs for a familiar voice to answer.

_" C'mon Sammy, answer the Goddamn phone already."_ Thought Dean as he clenched his jaw tightly to keep from screaming out all the words that were churning in his head.

A quick glance to his father told him that John was fighting the same urge from where he sat next to his oldest son, both his hands clenched into tight fists.

" C'mon Sammy." Whispered Dean as he continued to hold the phone to his ear.

_Back in a USMC Base just outside of Fallujah..._

Sam gripped his M16 tightly to hide how his hands were beginning to tremble as he neared the large tent just a little to the left of the main Communications Tent.

As he reached the tent, he met another marine, LCpl. Kyle Newman.

" Hey Newman, Wilson said there was a call for me?" Asked Sam.

" Yeah, the call just got re-routed to booth number six." Said Newman quitely as he pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

" Thanks." Said Sam tightly with a small nod before he walked over the threshold and passed Newman.

Much to his chagrin, Sam already began to feel his eyes begin to burn with the salt of tears as he walked past the phone booths.

One... Two... Three... Four... Five...

Sam stopped at booth number Six and slowly lowered himself into the simple metal fold-up chair tucked under the table where a single black phone unit hung before him on the ply-wood privacy-dividers.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Sam reached out with his hand and gripped the receiver tightly before picking it up and slowly bringing it to his ear.

" D-Dean?" He asked, his voice was tentative and quiet as he waited with a pounding heart for someone to answer back to his inquirey.

From the other end of the line, Sam heard a soft intake of breath before it was shakily exhaled, carrying a tearful voice he hadn't heard in over five entire months.

" Sammy."

Sam felt like his heart was being rended into many shreds as his beloved older brother's voice echoed through his head.

" Hey Dean." Choked out Sam, eternally greatfull that there wasn't anyone else in the Phone Tent around to see him with such rapidly desintegrating composure.

" Sammy... Oh my God Sammy, you stupid, fucking idiot." Gritted out Dean, all but ready to let the anguish within his soul drown him.

" Dean I... I'm..." Sam tried to speak, but his throat seemed Hell-bent on preventing him from uttering a single, articulate sentence.

" God Sammy... Are you okay little brother?" Asked Dean with urgency, his big brother instincts going into over-drive even though the only connection he had with his baby brother was a telephone.

" Yeah...Yeah, I'm okay man. I'm okay. What about you and Dad, how are you guys doing?" Asked Sam, his throat finally beginning to losen enough for him to speak more than faltering, single words.

" Dude, we just found out a few days ago that you lied to us about goin' to college and that in actuality, you went and joined the freakin Marines and got your ass booted off to fucking _Iraq_ to fight in a goddamn **war **that you got no business bein in. How the fuck do you think me and Dad are doin' _Sam _? Growled Dean, months of pent up anger and hurt finally bubbling up to the surface.

" I'm sorry Dean. Umm... I... God... Where are you guys right now?" Asked Sam quietly, cringing a little despite knowing all along that Dean and his Dad were most likely pissed at him beyond words.

" We're stayin' at Caleb's house, we just got back from seeing your Sergeant Goodman at Parris Island to get some answers about _you_ Sammy, he gave us the number for the base you're at. All of us have been waiting around for five freakin hours for the right time to call you." Grumbled Dean, his voice hard and clearly coveying his frustrations.

" All of you? Who else is there besides you and Dad?" Asked Sam, slightly confused now.

" Well Sammy, you got yourself an entire entourage, besides me and Dad, Pastor Jim, Caleb, and Bobby all came with us to Parris Island." Answered Dean.

Around him, the four older men were straining to hear as much of the conversation as possible.

" The three of them did that... Why?" Asked Sam.

" Wha- You're kidding me right? Sammy, the three of them are worried as Hell about you, just like me and Dad are. Did you expect us not to be after we found out the truth?" Asked Dean in slight disbelief at his baby brother's confusion.

" No... No it's not that, it just... I don't know... I." Sam stuttered.

" Are they all there with you?" He added.

" Yeah Sammy, they're all here, and they all wanna yell at you for bein' so stupid. Do you wanna talk to them?" Asked Dean.

" What... Oh, sure okay." Said Sam, feeling his fear increase just a little more.

Back at Caleb's house, Dean turned his gaze to his father and held out the phone to him but, John shook his head and gestured to the three other hunters in the room. Dean could instantly tell that John had refused not out of spite or anger, but because he was just as scared and unsure as his youngest son was at the moment.

Silently, Dean handed the phone to Pastor Jim, who already had his eyes welling with tears as he took the offered phone and brought it to his ear.

" Sam?" Asked the old man.

" Hey Pastor Jim, how are you?" Asked Sam, feeling his heart both swell and bleed as he heard the Pastor's voice.

" I've been better, I'll have to admit. Though at the moment I'd like nothing more then to smack you upside the head, you foolish, foolish child." Chided Jim softly.

" I'm sorry Pastor Jim, I hope Dean and my Dad weren't too mad at you when they got the package I sent you." Said Sam quietly.

" You just about shattered them with that package boy. Your Daddy and you brother had been looking for you for two months before they came over to my house and learned the truth." Sighed Pastor Jim as he spared a glance to the two older Winchester men.

" I'm sorry Pastor Jim, it's really hard to explain why everything is the way it is but, you'll know soon enough." Sighed Sam.

" Alright Sammy, I'm gonna give the phone over to Caleb. Just keep yourself safe out there boy, ya hear me?" Asked Jim.

" Yes sir, I will." Said Sam.

With a small sniffle, Jim handed the phone off to Caleb, who proceeded to tear the young marine a new one with Bobby Singer following in the same fashion.

Then, the phone was finally handed over to John Winchester.

From where he sat, Dean stared at his father, it was the first time in a long time that he'd seen his father so pale and utterly nervous as the older man brought the phone to his ear and spoke.

" S-Sammy?"

From where he sat in a tent in Iraq, Sam felt his heart light up with renewed pain, and love.

Blinking his eyes as hard as he could and trying to battle back the sobs that were beginning to rise up from within him, Sam answered his father's voice.

" Yes Sir." Said Sam, his voice just barely above a whisper as he finally spoke to the father he'd purpously provoked into driving him away from home.

Silence followed for the better part of of what seemed a lifetime before Sam loosened his tongue, the composure he'd been trying so desperately to maintain fast beginning to crumble.

" D-Dad... Please don't... Please don't hate me Dad." He all but sobbed into the phone as a few tears escaped him.

All thoughts of being stoic and composed in the famous Marine Corp way was temporarily shot to Hell as Sam taked to his father for the first time in months.

From where he sat in Caleb's livingroom, John felt all the breath leave his lungs as his heart slammed to a dead stop in his chest when his youngest child's sobbed out words registered in his mind.

When the ability to speak returned to him, John forced his voice to work while his mind could barely put a sentence together.

" Jesus boy!... Have you lost your mind completely?!" Yelled John in disbelief before going right into " Loving but majorly pissed Daddy Mode" and began to thoroughly trounce his youngest son verbally.

" Sammy, how the hell could you think I'd ever be able to hate you son? You know damn well that that can never happen. Damn it Sam, I want answers from you, this instant! Why the hell did you lie to us? Why the hell would you go join the marines and get yourself shipped off to fight in a fucking WAR?! How could you do this us Sammy? Answer me, you stupid, stupid little boy!!!" John's voice cracked at this last demand, shattering the fascade of livid anger and exposing a small morsel of the terror and anguish that actually reigned within John's very soul.

From where he sat in the phone tent, Sam felt both the familiar chagrin and also elation at hearing his dad's deep, angry voice, both because his old man was pissed at him and because he'd missed the sound of it for several long and lonely months.

" I'm sorry Dad. I never wanted to lie to you guys. All I ever wanted was to stay with you both, to stay together cause you guys are home and all that stuff I said about wanting normal and giving up hunting was pure bullshit but... I just... I... I am so sorry Dad." At this point Sam grew silent as his throat closed up on him again.

" Oh Sammy, you got nothin to be sorry for, ya hear, nothing. If anything, I should've seen through all that crap. By the way, that was one hell of a fast one you pulled on us... I'm impressed." Sighed John with a watery smile he wished his Sammy could actually see for himself.

" R-Really?" Croaked out Sam with a sad little smile of his own.

" Well yeah, you blind-sided everybody Sammy." Answered back John as he gave a quick glance to Dean, who had a small smile on his own haggard face.

But, the sad smiles faded back to just sadness as John spoke again.

" Sammy, if anyone has to say they're sorry, it's me. I'm so sorry Sammy, more than you'll ever know. You lied to us Sam but, I lied to you too when I screamed at you that night that if you walked out the door, you'd have to stay gone and never come back... I didn't mean it either. I want you back son, even this very second I want you back with ever fiber of my being Sammy." Said John gruffly as his eyes began to well with salt.

John's only reply to these words was a soft, rattling breath being exhale in a way that only despair and anguish could make it sound.

With a small, steadying breath of his own, John continued in bearing his soul to his boy.

" I want you to know that above all else, I'm proud to have you as one of my sons, C-Corporal Winchester. I want you to know that I've always been proud of you Sammy, always."

Sam felt his crumbling heart both crack and swell at his father's long overdue praises.

With a gruff cough, Sam forced himself to speak.

" T-Thank you for saying that Sir... I-I love you." He managed to say through a slightly trembling voice.

" I love you too son. I love you too." Choked out John as he felt a fiery ache within his chest. At the moment, all will to be gruff and stoic in that patented John Winchester way was thrown out the window cause John gave a damn about only one thing right now, his young marine.

" Just take care of yourself out there and _stay alive_ cause I don't think me or your brother could go on if anything happened to you." Said John quietly.

" I will dad, I'll try with everything I have." Answered Sam.

" Good, I'm gonna give the phone back to your brother. Umm... Uhh... B-Bye Sammy." Pushed out John because saying goodbye was the last the father wanted to do.

" O-Okay, bye dad." Whispered Sam, not wanting to say goodbye either.

John jerkily handed the phone over to a visibly upset Dean before he bowed his head low and buried his face into his hands with Pastor Jim laying a comforting hand on the anguished father's haunched shoulders.

Dean brought the phone back to his ear and spoke.

" Hey Sammy." He started.

" Hey Dean, and it's Sam." Corrected Sam with a small humorless huff.

" _Sammy_ Bitch." Croaked Dean before he bit his lip to stop it from trembling.

" Jerk." Shot back Sam instinctively, tears now falling free and without any shame down his cheeks.

" Me and Dad, we ah... We saw the pictures you sent us in your journal... They should really change your name to Corporal Dumbo, ya freak." Huffed Dean, trying to be funny when he felt like his heart was being ripped apart by Daevas( Like from 'Shadows').

" I knew you were gonna say that, Gonzo." Said Sam tearfully.

" Hey now, my face is flawless, unlike your ugly mug." Shot back Dean with a watery chuckle.

But, the smile quickly faded from Dean's lips as dispair washed over him again.

" God Sammy... Why did you do this to us?... Please tell me." Dean all but begged.

" Dean, I can't tell you over this line, I can't risk it, they'll think I'm nuts. Just read my journal man, the last entry will tell you what all of you wanna know." Answered back Sam quietly as he scrubbed at his tear stained cheeks.

" Alright, you know I will. Sammy... I just read your first letter to mom and you're right, if mome were here she would smack you upside the head for being such an idiot. And Sammy... what's this about you sayin things would be better if you'd never come along, hmm?" Asked Dean flatly, slowly beginning to seeth through his sadness.

" Sometimes I wonder about it. If you wanna know why, just read the last entry of my journal." Said Sam before he paused, the noises from outside the tent, the noises of what was now his reality making themselves known.

" Listen, I gotta go, the rest of my platoon's gonna be wondering what's taking me so long." Said Sam sadly with a small sigh.

Naturally, this was what Dean had been dreading after the first ring of the phone.

" A-Alright Sammy, but before you go, I just wanna say that, what Dad said goes for me too. Yeah, you're a total girl but, I wouldn't want anyone else but you for a brother." At this point, Dean had to pause and gather himself, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper.

" I love you Sammy and I'm sorry I didn't say it to you that night."

Sam felt his entire body go numb for a second before a fresh pain that only yearning for someone you loved could cause blossumed through his chest.

With blurred eyes, Sam spoke roughly.

" Hey, I'm a marine now, I don't do chick-flick."

" Sammy." Came Dean pain filled voice.

" You don't have anything to be sorry for Dean, nothing... And man, you know I love you too." Said Sam thickly.

" I have to go now." He added softly.

" Would you think I'm selfish if I said I didn't want you to go?" Asked Dean.

" Never in a million years." Was Sam's simple reply.

" Call me again later, and I hope I'll see you and dad with my own eyes, two years from now." He added.

" You'd better, you'll feel my wrath if you don't." Promised Dean quietly.

" Bye Dean."

" Bye Sammy."

_-CLICK-_

With a soft click, the connection was severed between two brothers, severed between a father and his youngest son, severed between a young man and his three other mentors.

In Iraq, a young Corporal sat in silence, using sheer will to compose himself before he headed back out into the desert Sun's scorching hot light and an as of yet, unclear future.

In a small two story house in Port Royal, Kentucky, an older brother dashed up the stairs as fast as he could to get back to the guest room, where a simple book more valuable than anything else in the world lay.

A book that once again, was the holy grail of much needed answers.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 22

Dean was up the stairs the second after he'd forced himself to put Caleb's phone down when the dial-tone filled his ear.

He'd left the four senior hunters confused and concerned in his wake.

But, it hadn't taken long for John to snap out of his shocked stupor and bolt after his oldest son.

Bobby, Caleb, and Pastor Jim followed a few paces behind him.

All five of them were headed for one place.

Caleb's guestroom.

" Dean, what's going on?" Asked John as he burst into the questroom to see his oldest son frantically flipping through the pages of Sam's journal.

Dean paused in his frenzied movements to meet his father's anxious gaze as Bobby, Caleb, and Pastor Jim came in through the door.

" Dad, Sammy said the answer to why he did all this is in the last entry of his journal, he said it would answer why." Said Dean quietly before he resumed in rapidly flipping the pages.

Without a word, John and the other seasoned hunters stepped closer to the desperate older brother and waited with bated breath.

After several tense seconds of flipping, Dean finally stopped moving as he reached the last couple of pages in his baby brother's journal.

John, Bobby, Caleb, and Pator Jim watched as Dean's eyes focused on the white pages filled with his brother's signature scrawl, his eyes moving rapidly as they read the words.

Then suddenly, Dean gasped and went rigid, his entire face converying his shock as his hazel eyes, still reading, grew to the size of satellite dishes.

" Dean?" Asked John, feeling terror grip his heart at seeing his son's expression.

Dean dimly heard his father's voice, but it seemed so far away, far far away.

Dean's brain was fast becoming vapor-locked as the secret burden his Sammy had been keeping from since he was sixteen, was finally revealed to him.

Dean's mouth opened in a soundless scream.

He couldn't breath.

He couldn't think.

He couldn't feel anything but raw, unbridled terror.

This could_ not_ be fucking happening.

Dean distantly felt the plaster wall of Caleb's guestroom as he back slammed against it with a dull thud.

His knees were fast loosing the ability to hold his weight, the wall being the only thing keeping him upright.

Vaguely, he felt the journal slip from numb, clammy fingers, leaving his hands empty like his soul was feeling at this very second.

John and the others watched, seemingly frozen where they stood as Sam's journal fell from Dean's hands and clattered onto the floor by his feet.

They watched in horrified fascination as Dean's body slid down the wall bonelessly as his knees gave out on him completely.

There was total, all consuming silence in the room for the longest time before a soft, almost inaudible, hitched breath echoed through the air.

Dean's lungs were not cooperating with him as he began to wheeze for air where he sat on the floor with his back still against the wall.

Without even thinking it, Dean brought his shaking, still numb hands up to his face and clamped them tightly over his mouth, both to stop himself from screaming with all the force his body could give, and to try however futily to stiffle the sobs that were rising up from deep inside him like a gyser.

This all had to be a bad dream, it couldn't be real.

Why couldn't he wake up from it?

Dean rocked back and forth, shaking his head in utter denial as he let out a small, muffled sound through his obscured lips, his eyes glazed over and unseeing as they welled with tears.

Seeing his oldest boy's distress successfully snapped John out of his stupor as he strode forward and came to kneel before his distraught son.

" Easy Dean, breathe son, just take deep slow breaths." Soothed John as he tried, however futily to calm his child down.

With John focused solely on a very upset Dean, it was Pastor Jim who stepped forward and picked up Sam's forgotten journal off the floor.

Like Dean, Pastor Jim held the book in his hands and began to read the last pages with Caleb and Bobby standing behind either side of him, now nervously curious to know the power of Sam Winchester's words.

With their height they could easily read over the Pastor's shoulders and eye the words that had shaken Dean Winchester to his very core and left the usually unshakable young man, a distraught mess against the wall.

Three pairs of eyes read Sam's signature scrawl and found themselve growing light headed in horror as their hearts slammed to grinding halts within their ribcages in perfect unison.

The room was silent again, save for the faint sounds of Dean's muffle sobs and John softly spoken nonsense in an effort to qwell them.

" J-John." Said Pastor Jim once he finally got his mind back and forced himself to speak as loud as he could, which wasn't much louder then a whisper as with glazed over eyes, the Pastor and the two other hunter flanking him turned and beseeched the oldest Winchester to turn around and look at them.

" John." Forced out Pastor Jim once again, his voice marginally stronger this time around.

" What?" Asked a very agitated John Winchester as he turned around to face his three long-time friends.

Agitated fury quickly fled and was replaced by a jolt of terror as his eyes fell on the three other men standing in the room, and the book that was held within Pastor Jim's trembling hands.

As John stood to his feet, Caleb and Bobby left their places flanking Pastor Jim and strode forward towards a still distraught and now silently crying Dean Winchester.

As he passed by, Bobby gripped John's arm and lightly tugged the eldest Winchester in a silent gesture that told the man he needed to move, to get to Pastor Jim, and the book in his hand.

A small gesture to tell John that, Dean was in safe hands, that it was necessary for the father to take just a few steps away from his oldest son.

Sucking in a small breath through his nostrils, John gave a small nod to Bobby before he forced his legs to move and step forward towards a pale and terrified looking Pastor Jim.

John's heartbeat boomed loudly within his ears with each step he took until he finally came to stand before the slightly trembling and quietly distraught Pastor.

In silence so thick, it could be cut with a knife, John reached out with both of his hands and reverently took his youngest son's journal from Pastor Jim's still numb with shock hands.

With his soul waring with itself over whether to read, or run from the certain, terrible truth, John turned the book so that it lay in his hands properly.

His eyes made the decision for him as they gazed over his youngest child's final entry, and began to read the last of Sam's many, many letters to his beloved family.

_December 1, 2001_

_Dear Dean and Dad, _

_Well, this is it, today's the day. We're finally graduating after thirteen straight weeks of Hell on Earth. _

_To be honest, I actually enjoyed myself through out all those weeks. _

_Who'd have thought that was possible after all the crap that came out of my mouth that night about being sick of hunting, of moving around all the time, of being a soldier? _

_Like I just said, all the stuff I said that night, I didn't mean any of it, in fact, I was just fine with the life I had, the life we had. _

_We were together, we were hunting things and saving people, " The Family Business" as it were. _

_But most of all, we were together. _

_The both of you most likely hate me for screwing all that up when I left. _

_You know, in my other letters to you guys, I never give you the real reason why I left, I just tell you how I'm doing, how I'm feeling, and I'm always telling you I'm sorry for hurting you both and for being such an ass those months leading up to the night I left. _

_Well, seeing as to how this is the last entry in this journal, I may as well tell you now._

_The reason why I left wasn't for a stupid dream of a normal life, I left because the thing that killed mom, that took her from us all, threatened to take the both of you too. He threatened to take the both of you from me_

_He showed it to me in a dream one night, I was sixteen at the time. _

_He was actually in my head. _

_He is evil, he is a shadowy creature with Yellow Eyes. __I think he could be a demon, a very, very powerful one, but I can't be sure. _

_He showed me what he would have done to you guys. _

_He would've pinned you both to the ceiling, ripped your stomachs open, and then burned you alive. _

_Like he did to Mom. _

_It's my fault Mom died, that Yellow Eyed thing was after me, Mom got in his way and he killed her because of it. _

_All of this is my fault. _

_This life of hunting, of killing things that people only think of in dreams, this unquenchable thirst for vengeance, us not having a home. It's all my fault. _

_You guys lost mom because of me. _

_It's my fault Mom died. _

_I left because I'd be damned if you guys lost your lives because of me too. I can't allow it. I could never allow that to ever happen._

_If that thing wants me, he can try with all his might to take me but, I will not risk the both of you. You're better off without, you're safer. _

_I know the both of you were angry at me for leaving you when you needed me, you'll most likely be even more furious when you find out I lied to you about where I was really going that night. _

_I just want the both of you to know that I am so sorry, for everything. _

_I love you Dean. _

_I love you Dad. _

_The both of you are the most important people in my life, you're both the best things in my life and you always will be._

_That will never change. Ever. _

_I hope I'll see you again someday._

_**Your Sammy.**_

Pastor Jim stood and watched John, the older man's despair growing ten-fold as he watched his long time friend gawk in wide eyed, slack-jawed shock at the book he held in his hands.

John's jaw moved up and down mechanically, as though trying to say something, but no words would come forth.

Tears, hot and bitter, began to stream from the usual unshakable John Winchester's eyes and splash onto the pages of his baby boy's journal.

Then with a choked gasp, the book slipped through his fingers and clattered onto the floor for a second time as John stumbled backwards until the backs of his knees met the side of the single bed in Caleb's guestroom.

He collapsed onto the bed, his still stunned being just sitting there in a dazed stupor.

John stared out the window of Caleb's guestroom with weeping, unseeing eyes.

He could vaguely here Dean, his oldest boy was no longer volleying from screaming to sobbing, no, instead he was making small, quiet noises of despair through the shaking fingering still clamped over his mouth in a futile effort to stiffle them.

" John?" Asked Jim, his voice though softly speaking, was more like a incomprehensive roaring echo in John's ears.

Whatever parts of John Winchester's brain that were marginally functioning, were focused solely on only one thing.

His baby boys written words of a horrifying revelation.

Once again, fragments of Sammy's words were swirling around his father's head in a chaotic vortex.

_The reason why I left wasn't for a stupid dream of a normal life_

_I left because the thing that killed mom_

_That took her from us all, _

_Threatened to take the both of you too._

_He threatened to take the both of you from me_

_He showed it to me in a dream _

_I was sixteen at the time_

_He was actually in my head_

_He is evil_

_shadowy creature _

_Yellow Eyes_

_demon, a very, very powerful one_

_He showed me what he would have done _

_pinned you both to the ceiling_

_ripped your stomachs open_

_burned you alive_

_Like he did to Mom_

_It's my fault Mom died_

_Yellow Eyed thing was after me_

_Mom got in his way_

_he killed her because of it_

_All of this is my fault_

_This life of hunting_

_killing things that people only think of in dreams_

_unquenchable thirst for vengeance_

_us not having a home_

_It's all my fault_

_You guys lost mom because of me_

_I left because I'd be damned if you guys lost your lives because of me too_

_I can't allow it_

_I could never allow that to ever happen_

_If that thing wants me, he can try with all his might to take me but_

_I will not risk the both of you_

_better off without, you're safer_

_angry at me for leaving you when you needed me_

_even more furious when you find out I lied _

_I hope the both of you can find it in your hearts to forgive me for everything I did_

_for hurting you both_

_you can stay mad at me too _

_you can stay mad at me forever if that's what you want_

_I probably deserve it, all of it_

_I am so sorry_

_for everything_

_I love you Dean. _

_I love you Dad. _

_most important people in my life_

_you're both the best things in my life_

_you always will be._

_will never change. Ever. _

_see you again someday._

_with everything that I have. I hope I'll see you again someday._

_I hope with everything that I have. _

_Your Sammy._

**_Your Sammy. Your Sammy. Your Sammy. Your Sammy. Your Sammy._**

Along with these words, John's mind was mercilessly assailed with images of a cute, chubby little six month old baby boy with honey brown hair, slowly turning into an adolescent with a love for learning, and then a teenager stubborn and defiant, like his old man.

But the image that lingered amidst the sea of memories, was how Sam's face had looked that terrible night of deception and false words.

The way Sam's face had looked after he'd been given the ultimatum.

These words once again rang through John's ears, now louder than when they'd been screamed at his youngest boy.

_**" YOU WANT TO GO, FINE! GO THEN, BUT IF YOU WALK OUT THAT DOOR DON'T YOU EVER EVEN THINK ABOUT COMING BACK, YA HERE ME, STAY GONE, DON'T YOU EVER COME BACK. YOU WANNA TURN YOUR BACK ON ME AND YOUR BROTHER, WE'LL TURN OUR BACKS ON YOU. NOW GET OUT!!!"**_

With a choked scream, John bolted from where he sat and barreled out of the room into the hall, leaving three of the rooms occupants stunned and the young man still crumbled against the wall, now crying in full anguish.

Pastor Jim, Bobby, and Caleb all heard the oldest Winchester run down the hall and all but rip the bathroom door from it's hinges and dive inside.

Even with Dean now crying loud and full, the three other hunters winced as the sound of John violently empying the contents of his stomach into the toilet down the hall caught their ears.

What made this entire situation all the more worse was that there wasn't a damn thing they could do.

And even if they tried, it would be nothing against the horrible, irreversible truth that had just been revealed to them all.

Meanwhile in Fallujah, Iraq some hours later...

" EVERYBODY FIND COVER!!!" Screamed Sergeant Byron York as he ducked behind a large van and began firing his rifle.

The other marines followed suit as the sound of rifle fire began to rapidly fill the air.

With a small grunt, PFC. Rashad Mathers's booth accidentally caught the side of a car as he'd been running for cover.

He was about to stumble into the street and become an easy target for the bullets that were being fired at anything USMC, when someone's hand clamped onto his arm like a vice and yanked him unright and backward till he collided with the sandy wall of a building.

Rashad found himself staring at two hard, deadly serious moss green eyes.

Than the other marine turned away and began returning fire with his M16

" Thanks Sam." Yelled Rashad quickly before he aimed his rifle around the corner of the building he and Sam were using for cover.

" Don't mention it." Yelled Cpl. Sam Winchester without turning around as he began rapidly firing at any unfriendly that caught his eye amidst the chaos.

Sam as his platoon had only been inside the city walls of Fallujah for about half an hour before the first enemy bullet had been fired.

For Cpl. Sam Winchester and all the men of his platoon...

The first of what would certainly be many battles had just begun in a fiery shower of bullets.


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 23

" GRENADE!!!!" Roared Corporal Samuel Winchester as he watched the small, black projectile sailing through the air, coming at him and about four of his fellow marines as though things were in slow motion.

Sam and the four others all moved quickly, the youngest Winchester's freakishly long legs a Godsend at the moment as the Corporal hightailed it out of the blast zone with his M16 held in a death grip.

Sam found cover behind a bullet ridden car just as the grenade hit land.

**_BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!_**

The explosion was defeaning in Sam's ears but, this was nothing new really.

Of course there would be a bomb going off, since when was there not any exploding projectiles or anything else that could send a man to meet his maker these days in the life of Corporal Samuel Francis Winchester, United States Marine?

" Geez, don't these fuckers ever take a day off?" Mumbled Sam, truelly annoyed as he readied his rifle to start firing back.

After 16 whole months of endless fire fights, car bombs, night raids, and one small case of heatstroke with a little food poisoning mixed in, Corporal Sam Winchester stopped being a scared little boy who'd thrust himself into War willingly.

Now, he was nineteen, there was only a man, a marine, who wasn't afraid to do anything and everthing in his power to survive this place, once a beautiful, cultured country, that had now become somewhat of a deathtrap. War torn, and marred by endless rivers of blood.

Rivers that Sam helped feed with ever single life he himself had taken in the course of this war.

After all, he'd made a promise to his father and brother that he would do everything in his power to get through his two year tour and get home.

On top of that promise, he also kept in mind the promise he'd made to an elderly woman after his graduation from Parris Island way back on December 1, 2001.

In addition to keeping himself alive, he watched after Grandma Rose's "baby" Rashad Mathers, which subsequently led him to watching after just about every other man in his unit to the best of his abilities.

He'd promised an old woman that he'd have her grandson's back out here in this war, but some time back, he'd changed that promise to include everyone he was serving with.

Back to the current setting, it was early afternoon here in Fallujah, post the "Fall of Baghdad" with Saddam Hussein's statue getting torn down and everything.

Sam and his unit were there during that entire event, all had bourne witness to the fall of an era, of a day that would be marked in history.

Baghdad may have been liberated, but Fallujah was a whole different ballgame.

The fighting was constant and brutal.

Many on both sides had already lost there lives in the battles that had taken place.

For CPL. Sam Winchester, this entire war was made all the more complicated by the secret fact that he was the only United States Marine in the whole entire Corps who could see dead people and had prophetic dreams, well, nightmares really on a regular basis.

Was it cheating in War if one had foreknowledge of where an ambush was gonna take place or when a car bomb was gonna go off and then subtley warn everyone to steer clear of such areas by saying he just had " a bad feeling"?

Back to the present, with a low growl, Sam shot up from behind his cover and began to shoot his rifle with experienced ease, shooting bullet after bullet at anything that caught his eye, mainly any dark figure that gave of a minute flash that indicated that it was an enemy guy firing bullets back at him with the intent to kill.

Everything was in shambles, choas reigning in full swing over the streets of Fallujah, Iraq.

_" One year and four fuckin' months. And still there's never a dull day."_ Thought Sam, now no longer annoyed but pissed off beyond words as he and his fellow marines continued to fight through yet another hot and miserable day for their very lives.

For what seemed like a life age of the Earth, Sam kept firing his M16, vaguely hearing a number of his bullets finding targets and yelling out orders or answering back to any order that was given to him on his small radio communication device.

Then, Srgt. Byron York's voice boomed through the air.

" CEASE FIRE!"

The order was echoed by several other voices three of which Sam immediately recognized to be those of Rashad Mather, Matthew Ruiz, and Mark Twombly.

With an huff that was half relief and half exhaustion, Sam relaxed his grip on his assault rifle and rose to full height.

The dust was settling rapidly, revealing the devastation that had been caused by the furious fighting between enemies.

The walls of several buildings now sported new bullets holes and fragmentations, cars had eveything blown out, one was actually on fire at the moment, there was shattered glass everywhere from windows that were no match for deadly metal projectiles.

But, all this property damage was not what made Cpl. Sam Winchester's very soul lurch within him painfully.

There was red, thick and crimson mixing with the sandy white pavement and the dark tan dirt.

Blood.

So much blood.

And the many bodies that all this blood was evacuating from.

Black and brown mounds of flesh that were once living, breathing men.

Though they had ben filled with murderous intent when they'd been attacking who they viewed as enemies, they were dead now, there was no hatred or malice, just corpses, empty shells that littered the ground.

Cpl. Sam Winchester personally had the blood of some of these men on his hands.

He'd killed some of these men with the bullets he'd fired from his rifle because he, like all his fellow marines around him...

Wanted to live, wanted to keep breathing, wanted to still be around to see the end of their time here in the midst of war and death.

Wanted above all else, to go home, because this place sure as hell wasn't it.

Sam bit back the urge to scream, to vomit, to go mad, and instead focused his attention of the rest of his unit.

There was definetely going to be a healthy amount of cuts and bruises.

Now that the adrenaline-rush had begun dicipate, Sam himself finally noticed with a searing twinge that there was a small tear in the left pants leg, just above his calf.

Sam let a heavy sigh escape him as he winced at the pain. He allowed himself a few seconds of wallowing in his pain before he banished it completely from his mind.

He pulled out a ratty blue bandana from one of his pockets and quickly tied it tightly and efficiently around his minor leg wound.

_" Oh well, new battle scar. Could've been worse."_ Thought Sam before with another huff, he headed off to see if anyone was hurt worse than him and needed help. All the while he hoped that no one noticed the cloth wrapped around his leg because ratty blue wasn't supposed to be part of his combat uniform.

Sam and his unit remained in the area for a good hour and a half, tending to those insurgents that had survived the melee and were merely wounded and clearing up the bodies of those who hadn't.

As for the Marines themselves, they like Sam had gotten away with just scratches, bruises and in Greg Roginski's case, a minor pull of his right leg muscle.

Once the Marines had cleared things up to the best of there abilities, Srgt. York barked out the order for everyone to get their asses into the Humvees cause it was time for the Night Patrol to head back to base camp while a fresh unit to over guard of this area of Fallujah.

Rashad Mathers gave a slight groan as he took a seat inside one of the Humvees.

The Night Patrol had been in the city since 1:00 AM, it was now 3:00 PM.

Thankfully for most of that time, there hadn't been any hostility, but everything had gone to Hell at the very end, when everyone was understandably tired and hungry and just wanted to go back to base.

It was then that the first grenade was thrown and the first bullet was fired.

The insurgents always seemed to have the worst timing... Always.

Now, another notch had been added to the proverbial war-belt, another battled that had been survived by these men.

From where he sat, Rashad watched as several of his fellow marines also boarded the humvee, before the door was closed, one final man got on the car that was headed back to base camp.

" Hey Winchester, you sure there's enough room for you're freakishly long limbs?" Asked Rashad with a small smirk.

" Shut up Mathers or there will be room enough for your's truely once I get through with you." Grumbled Sam as he folded himself into what little space was left.

Rashad bit back a retort because honestly, he'd rather not find out just how his tall and at the moment very annoyed and exhausted friend might carry out his aforementioned threat of making more room in the Humvee.

With a deep exhale, Sam sat with his back braced up against the hull of the vehicle, battling both exhaustion and the dull throb of his injured leg, which he still hadn't mentioned to anyone, keeping it folded against him to try and block the makeshift bandage as much as possible.

If it was one thing Cpl. Winchester despised besides the heat and the constant threat of getting killed, it was being fussed over.

Sam tilted his head back and waited for his current means of transportation to start moving, the quiet voices of the other marines slowly filling the air as they conversed about this latest hurdle they had successfully gotten past.

With an inaudible sigh, Sam let his eyes drift shut, seemingly relaxed but, like any marine, he was still fully alert with his other senses as the Humvee finally gave a low rumble as it and the second vehicle began to drive out of Fallujah and back to base.

From where he sat, Sam let a single though pass through his tired mind.

_" Just eight more months, Dean, just eight more months Dad, just eight more months and I'll be home to you both."_

Meanwhile, in a decent motel outside Beavercreek Ohio...

It was 10:00 at night and in a actually clean motel room with two queen-sized beds, Dean Winchester sat on the bed farthest from the door.

He was at the moment, alone, John Winchester having gone to the local bar to get some information about their current hunt.

Apparently, there might have been a small infestation of underground ripper mice in the sewers that was bound to be trouble if not dealt with immediatley.

For Dean's part, he didn't really care much.

Dean didn't really care about a lot these days except his father, the Impala, and above all, his baby brother, who was in service as a soldier in Iraq, who'd already served for one year and four months.

For Dean, and John, it'd been one year and four months of longing, worrying, and at many times, feeling absolutely terrified.

The longing and the worrying were always equal but the terror, it always spiked whenever there was news in the papers, magazines, or T.V. of more fighting breaking out, or more carbombs going of in Fallujah, Iraq.

For both of the older Winchesters, the sporadic phonecalls and occasional letter mailed to Pastor Jim for the past 16 months were barely enough at times to satisfy the need, the basic desire to just have there youngest with them, to know that he was safe.

It was barely enough at times, not enough at all most of the time.

As he sat there alone and left to his own musings, Dean Winchester had but one crystal clear thought amidst the myriad of things floating around in his head.

_" Just eight more months, Sammy, just eight more months till we have you back and then, I'm never letting you out of my sight again."_


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 24

Cpl. Sam Winchester bit back a small groan of pain, the small bullet graze that adorned his left leg now throbbing viscously as he climbed out of the tight confines of the inside of the Humvee that had transported him and his unit back to the USMC military base that was home.

Thankfully, both military vehicles had arrived back to base in one piece.

No bombs hidden beneath the dirt of the road.

Today at least.

The youngest Winchester glanced down at the blue bandanna he'd tied around the wound and winced when he saw the tell-tale red circular spot that now stained through it.

The adrenaline from earlier was now completely gone, leaving the youngest Winchester in utterly exhausted, in pain and now with a slight limp that he hoped none of his fellow marines would notice.

Sam was just about to quietly slip away from his unit and head over to the medical tent to get his leg taken care of when Greg Roginski's voice rang out.

" Hey Winchester, what's that tied around your leg man?" the other man asked as he eyed the blue cloth that adorned his friend's leg.

_" I guess it was too much to ask to get this taken care of without anybody finding out."_ Thought Sam in defeat as he glanced down at his leg before turning to meet Greg's imploring gaze.

" It's a bandanna." Said Sam simply.

" I can see that but, why you got it around your leg Winchester?" Asked Greg, now with several other guys, including Sgt. York, Rashad, Mathew, and Mark joining him in staring at Sam.

" I got it tied around my leg 'cause I got shot there man." Said Sam with his voice dripping with a nonchalance that would've made John Winchester very proud as he waited for the uproar to begin.

And indeed, it began instantaneously as Sgt. York surged forward with a small yell, with the other marines following one step behind him.

" _Jesus H. Christ_, what am I ever gonna do with you Corporal Samuel Winchester?" Asked a very exasperated and deeply concerned Sgt. Byron York as he dropped to one knee, his hands reaching out to Sam's injured leg and quickly untied the make-shift bandage this young Corporal under his command had tied around a wound caused by a fuckin' bullet for God's sake, to get a look at it himself.

This wasn't the first time that Sam had tried to conceal an injury an failed.

On one level, Sgt. York was just about fed up with this whole keeping mum about an injury of any kind in Sam's case. On another level, he quietly understood that the young marine didn't wish to appear weak in front of the other marines, that he didn't want any kind of special treatment, even when he clearly deserved it.

The kid just seemed to hate being put on the spot and having everyone fluttering around him like moths to a flame to make sure that he was alright.

Much to Sgt. York's relief, as he gazed upon the still slightly bleeding wound, he deemed it to be what it basically was, a small graze against the top layer of flesh of Sam's leg.

As he looked up, Sgt. York could see from Sam's very uncomfortable expression that, all of the attention wasn't making him feel better.

In all honesty, the poor kid looked like he wanted to dig a hole in the dirt, fall into it, and then burrow down just a little bit deeper and then fill in said hole up back with the dirt that had been dug up and then once that was done, pour liquid concrete on top for good measure.

Though a small part of him wanted Sam to feel as uncomfortable as possible, punishment for being so stubborn about allowing others to care about him, York decided to take pity on the second highest ranking marine of his unit.

" Alright, back off you guys, give the man his space." Barked the Sergeant, his voice holding no room for argument.

Reluctantly, the other marines all stepped back, Greg Roginski limping slightly because he himself was sporting a minor leg injury as well.

Only, Greg had immediately informed everyone of his injury, unlike Sam.

" Alright, your wound doesn't look too bad but, you and Roginski should get to the med-tent Asap, after that, I'll be having a word with you Corporal Winchester." Said Sgt. York sternly as he pinned Cpl. Winchester with a look that sent the message clear across that he was deadly serious about that talk afterwards.

" Yes sir." Answered Sam and Greg immediately before the small circle of marines around them broke and the two of them limped off to get the proper medical attention as ordered by their commanding officer.

When Sam and Greg got to the med-tent, they were immediately pounced on by the medics, seeing as to how they'd walked in on their own accord.

For Sam, his leg wound required eight stitches and was quickly wrapped up with gauze. The medic was done with him in under twenty minutes.

However, Greg would be staying for just a little bit longer while the medics helped him out with his pulled leg muscle.

" Hey, you gonna be alright?" Asked Sam after he'd gotten himself taken care of and limped over to where Greg was currently sitting.

" Yeah man, I'll be fine man. What about you, you didn't get your leg like, infected or anything right?" Asked Greg his concern for his buddy evident as he gazed at Sam.

Sam felt his heart clench a little bit as he eyed Greg's concern.

But, instead of feeling universally good, Sam felt guilt and unworthiness warring against warmth and gratitude within his heart.

Sam swallowed back against the sudden tightening of his throat before he forced himself to meet Greg's imploring gaze and answered him.

" Nah Man, no infection or anything like that. I-I'm fine. What about you, are you gonna be OK?" Asked Sam.

" Oh, yeah. This is nothin', I'll be up and runnin' in no time." Said Greg with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Sam nodded silently before he turned to leave.

" I'll see ya later Roginski." He said quietly over his shoulder.

" It's gonna be alright Sam." Called back Greg, watching as Sam stood still for a moment at these words. Then, the moment passed and without another glance back, Sam walked out of the tent.

A certain Sgt. York was waiting for him.

With his stomach tying itself into knots, Sam scanned the many faces of his fellow marines as he walked, feeling a small jolt go through him as he finally caught sight of his Sergeant.

Feeling his trepidation grow, Cpl. Winchester silently made his way over to a very serious looking Sgt. York standing in front of one of the storage tents.

" Corporal Winchester reporting as ordered sir." Said Sam evenly as he stood to attention before Sgt. York.

" At ease Marine." Barked York, then he stepped aside and spoke again.

" Follow me." He said, before he stalked off behind the storage tent, clearly leading a path to wards the outskirts of the USMC base.

With a tiny swallow, Sam followed his commanding officer in silence, his hands gripping his M16 in a white knuckled grip as he walked a few steps behind Sgt. York.

York walked for a good five minutes with his subordinate dutifully following in his wake.

Then, the Sergeant came to an abrupt halt and whirled around to face his corporal.

" Why the hell do you not inform anyone when you are injured in any way Cpl. Winchester?" He asked with barely held back anger tinting his voice as he leered at Sam.

Sam stood to full height and kept his eyes front as he answered.

" This Marine's leg wound wasn't important Sir." Answered Sam in perfect neutral USMC fashion.

" Only _commanding officers_ deem what is important or not. Why would you think that I wouldn't think any injury to a man under my command was not important enough for me to know about?" Asked York, his voice growing harder with each syllable he uttered.

" This marine didn't wish for anyone to worry about him sir, this marine is fine sir." Answered Sam.

York felt his anger being replaced with exasperation very rapidly.

And indeed, in the case of Cpl. Sam Winchester, getting angry at this now nineteen year old kid always ended with the other man feeling more frustrated then angry.

" At ease soldier." Sighed York, watching as Sam relaxed, if marginally.

" Listen up Winchester, I've let this whole, not speaking up about injuries pass on for this long. But, not anymore. Now, I'm going to ask you why you look like you want to shrivel up whenever anyone wants to give even the slightest damn about you?" Asked York as he got right into Sam's personal space.

He couldn't physically get into Sam's face without looking like an idiot on his tippy-toes because the youngest Winchester had a nearly two feet height advantage over him.

York's question was answered at first by silence and then, Sam licked at his suddenly dry lips and forced himself to speak.

" This Marine just feels that way sir." Answered Sam.

" That is an unsatisfactory answer Corporal Winchester. Do not make me repeat the already asked question Marine." Growled York, his eyes boring invisible holes into Sam's face.

Again, Sam licked his lips and spoke.

And when he did, the words that left his lips made a usually unshakable Sgt. Byron York's lungs stop working as his heart slammed to a dead stop within his chest.

" This Marine doesn't believe he is worth worrying over sir." Said Sam quietly, his eyes dropping to stare at the ground.

Now it was York's turn to be silent as his mind tried valiantly, though still futilely to comprehend the blatantly absurd shit that had just been spoken by the young Marine standing before him.

Wrenching his mind back from trying to process the words that had effectively jammed some of the gears of his psyche, York took a deep breath before he spoke, using ever ounce of his control not to reach out, grab Sam by his shoulders and violently shake some sense into the idiot boy before him.

" Corporal Winchester... What do you mean by saying you don't believe that you are worth worry over?" Asked York, _very_ slowly.

Resisting the urge to shrug, Sam answered his Sergeant.

" That is just the way this Marine feels."

" Stop repeating yourself Marine, you've used that response before. Now answer me properly Corporal." Ordered York.

York watched a Sam stood there gathering his words, and if the sinking feeling in his gut was any indication, Sgt. York was not gonna like whatever Sam was about to say.

" This Marine... This Marine didn't want to be a distraction to everybody else sir." Said Sam, his nearly a mumble as he said these words.

York bit back the urge to cuss till his lips turned blue and instead, he gave a long, deep sigh to calm himself as best as he could.

" Alright, this is getting us no where. Okay, listen up, as of right now, I am ordering you to speak to me like I'm just your next door neighbor Mr. York, until I deem that you have given me a satisfactory answer, is that understood?" Asked York.

" Sir?" Asked a rather confused Cpl. Winchester.

" You heard me, speaking in military fashion isn't loosening you tongue Corporal so, I am specifically ordering you to talk to me like we're just a couple of regular, everyday guys instead of the Marines we are in actuality, now start talking Sam." Replied York curtly, resisting the urge to tap his boot covered foot because his patience really was basically thread-bare at this point.

" Y-Yes sir." Stumbled out Sam before with a small swallow, he obeyed York's unconventional order.

" I just don't feel like I deserve any of it sir." He started.

" Deserve any what Sam?" Asked Byron, allowing Sam to still call him sir even though he had ordered him not to be so military in his speech seeing as to how Sam was finally loosening up to him.

" I don't feel like I... Like I deserve anybody giving a damn about me. I just... I just don't want anyone to sir." Stuttered Sam.

" Why the hell not?" Asked a clearly taken aback Sgt. York.

" I guess it just... It feels like I'm always draining the life out of anyone who cares about me sir." Said Sam quietly.

" What the fuck do you mean by that Winchester?" Hissed York, clearly outraged.

He watched as Sam's eyes dropped and in that moment, Sgt. Byron York didn't see a USMC Corporal with one year and four months of active service under his belt. No, right now he saw only a young man, in many ways still a teenager, who was deeply scarred, not physically, but within his soul.

" Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you." Ordered York.

Sam obeyed and looked up, his eyes conveying a quiet misery and a deep rooted pain that in Sgt. York's opinion, should never have been in the eyes of one so young as Sam.

York's silence as he waited for an answer was prompt enough for the youngest Winchester to elaborate.

" I did that to my family when I was with them, I don't wanna do that to anyone I'm serving with out here sir."

" What?" Asked York.

" My Dad and my big brother, and maybe even my mother too when she was alive sir. They all spent so much time taking care of me that, they stopped living their own lives in the process. At least, I know I did that to my brother Dean, I basically robbed him of his childhood after our mother died. I promised myself I would never do that to anyone else, I promised myself to never be that selfish again sir." Explained Sam, blinking furiously against the tell tale burn behind his eyes.

It took York a second to digest Sam's words and when he did, it took all the will and self control York had not to first throttle the kid standing before him, and then yank him into a massive bear hug.

" Damn it Corporal Samuel Winchester, for being among one of the brightest young marines I have ever served with and had under my command, that was by far the most idiotic thing I have ever heard out of you." Growled York, completely flabbergasted as he continued.

" Are you that screwed in the head that you think you're being selfish for letting anyone care about you? You, who I've seen put the lives of every single other man out their ahead of your own time and time again? You honestly believe that you're being selfish by letting anyone give a damn about you when you yourself make it your personal duty to look out for every other man within the unit?" Said York, nearly ranting at this point.

When Sam opened his mouth to answer, York held up a rigid hand and silenced him.

" I've heard just about enough bullshit out of your mouth today Winchester. Now listen carefully cause I will not have a repeat of this conversation for the rest of this tour. I personally don't believe you have a selfish bone in your body Corporal Winchester and I will tell you right here and now that having people give a damn about to doesn't mean you're some leech who will suck them dry. Hell no, I am telling you right here and now that you should get used to having all of us swarming around you like bees from now on until you get it through that cinder block you call a head that you deserve to have people behind you, that you deserve to have people care about what happens to you while you are out here."

" Y-Yes sir." Said Sam when York paused in his verbal assault.

Then the Sergeant continued.

" And as for what you said about draining the life out of your family, I will take it only for the bull that it is. I refuse to believe a single word. And though this is gonna sound mushy, it is _not_ draining the life out of _anyone_ if they chose to care about you, especially this brother of yours. And as for the issue of you not reporting your status to your superiors, from now on you _are_ going to report _any_ and _all _injuries you most definitely will suffer during the remainder of your tour to me, if you do not, I will personally see to it that you are fully disciplined. Am I **clear** Corporal?" Asked a dead serious Sgt. York.

" Sir yes sir." Replied Sam, the two men had wordlessly returned to being members of the USMC.

The time for make believe was long over at this point.

Then, Sergeant York deflated, now feeling more tired then he had been after the fire-fight from just an hour ago had ended.

With a small sigh, he spoke.

" How is your leg by the way?" He asked, concern evident.

Sam blinked before remembered the reason for the entire heated conversation.

" It's alright, medic patched me up with only eight stitches sir." Answered Sam as he glanced down at the leg in question before looking back up and sending his sergeant an small, apologetic smile.

Resisting the urge to smile back because he was still a little bit upset with Sam, York schooled his features and gave only a curt nod before he took a step past the youngest Winchester.

But, just as he was about to dismiss the young Marine, he lashed out with a lightening fast hand and smacked Sam upside his shaven head with moderate enough force.

Cpl. Winchester yelped at the blow, bringing a hand up to the stinging skin at the back of his head as he whirled around, his shocked expression more than enough in conveying what his mind wanted to say.

_What the Hell was that for?_

" That was for allowing yourself to think like such a fuckin' idiot, and an additional warning to never pull this shit_ ever_ again, now go get yourself some grub and stay off that leg. I want you fit and ready with the rest of the chalk for Night Patrol tomorrow." Barked York before he turned and headed back up the path back into base.

He had it in mind to check in at the med-tent and see how PFC. Roginski was doing. And after that, he was going to try and solve a little bit more of the puzzle that he'd been trying to figure out since day one really.

The puzzle that was nineteen year old Corporal Samuel Winchester.

" Yes sir." Called Sam to his sergeant's retreating back, feeling both relieved and very uncertain as he still rubbed the back of his head.

After all, Sgt. Byron York was not one for making idle threats.

In the pit of his stomach, Cpl. Sam Winchester had a sinking feeling that he wasn't going to be liking the next couple days.


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. I also don't own the lyrics to the song. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 25

It was a quiet Autumn day with only the sounds of the fast dwindling nature as Winter slowly approached being the only sounds to pierce the all around silence of the asphalt highway that cut clean through the natural setting.

Then, the low rumblings of car engines steadily growing louder and louder drowned out the minuscule sounds of the birds, the insects, the soft wind against the slowly turning brown grass and weeds.

The low rumbling became roars loud and clear as a massive black Ford Pick-up truck came barreling over the black-top, followed closely by a sleek black 1967 Chevy Impala.

The men who sat behind the wheels of these two vehicles were on their way to the latest case of something supernatural colliding with those who were totally oblivious to it's existence.

Behind the wheel of the Ford Truck was John Winchester.

Behind the wheel of the Chevy Impala A.K.A. " My Baby" was Dean Winchester.

Father and oldest son were headed for Wolf Point, Montana.

Apparently, Wolf Point was literally having a wolf problem.

A pair of werewolves to be exact.

John and Dean were heading up to Wolf Point to meet up with Caleb Reeves and three of his associates.

They were all of them hoping that six seasoned hunters were enough to stop the vicious pair of rapid supernatural beings who'd already claimed five innocent lives.

However, the impending hunt was not what occupied the majority of the minds of the two men currently driving on a deserted road in anywhere USA.

No, their minds were permanently fixed a something far more important, rather, someone they held most dear to them.

The missing piece of their family, who was thousands of miles away, hell, he may as well have been an entire world away in Fallujah, Iraq; serving as a US Marine in the war against Terror.

Corporal Samuel Winchester.

Their Sammy.

From where he sat behind the wheel of his truck, John Winchester felt a bone deep weariness settle over him while a dull ache blossomed within his chest. With only half his mind on the road he was driving on, John turned his eyes to the small memento he'd taped to the glass near the bottom inside of his Ford's windshield.

It was a medium sized rectangle of light sensitive paper that forever held an image within it confines.

John Winchester felt the dull ache in his chest increase just a little more as his son's photgraphed eyes stared back at him, still as soul piercing in their stare as that horrible day this photo had fallen out a simple leather bound journal and fallen onto the carpet in Pastor Jim Murphy's living room.

The day they had all found out that Sam had joined the marines, and had already shipped out for active service the day before.

That had been the day the ground had been viciously ripped out from under John and Dean Winchester's feet.

This photograph was the head shot of Sam garbed immaculately in full USMC dress uniform, ready to graduate with top honors, and a meritoriously awarded rank of Lance Corporal from Basic Training at Parris Island in South Carolina, at the age of eighteen.

This was the one picture John claimed ownership of, the rest he'd willingly given up rights to, they were kept tucked away inside an envelope, buried in the glove compartment of the Impala.

They were under the gaurd of Sam's big brother.

As was the journal Sam had kept through basic training and the few letters he'd written to his family over the long months of his tour.

Those Dean kept hidden away in a small compartment in the back of the Impala's trunk.

As he stared at the image of his youngest child, John felt warm pride amidst the pain in his heart.

His youngest son was nineteen now, and God willing, he would be coming home from Iraq in just two more months.

It was still hard to fathom that it'd actually been almost two whole fuckin' years now since he'd seen his youngest son's face.

Still hard to fathom that it had been nearly two years since he'd been duped into driving his youngest son away, all in the name of that youngest son trying to protect him, his father and his older brother from a horrifying nightmare that had been planted in his head by a previously encountered evil.

At the thought of that evil, John felt pain and pride instantly replaced by rage, by a furious, all consuming vengeance.

And all of this burning hot fury was directed at this as of yet, still unknown evil that had ripped the Winchester family apart for a second time.

The first time had been that night nearly two decades ago, the second night of November, when John Winchester had had to witness his wife Mary, gutted and pinned to the ceiling over his youngest boy's crib before being incinerated away into nothing.

And because of the thing responsible for murdering his wife and shattering the life they'd had together, his youngest son had been terrorized enough to have deceived his father and brother into kicking him out of the family, kicking him out into the world, alone and unprotected.

That thing had violated his son's mind, filling it with lies and nightmares that had made Sam feel like the only way he could protect his family, was to give up all right to them.

Releasing a deep breath to reign in his anger, John reached out and reverently grazed his fingertips over the glossy surface of his son's photo where it hung taped to the windshield before he turned his attention back to the road.

With his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, John hit the gas on the accelerator and gunned his Ford ahead, wanting to get to Wolf Point as soon as he could.

Cause now, he really wanted to waste something, badly.

From where he sat behind the wheel of the Impala with the radio silent and not blaring out the usual rock music that would normaly be filling up the entire car, Dean Winchester followed suit and hit the accelerator, not wanting to be left in the dust now that his Dad had picked up the pace.

Dean could tell that his father was angry again.

And he knew full well what the cause of his father's anger was.

That Yellow Eyed son of a bitch who had killed Mary Winchester and had ripped Sam away from Dean and John as well with the the way it had terrified the youngest Winchester.

As he sat there behind the wheel of his beloved Impala, Dean felt his battered and broken heart lurch painfully within his chest at the thought his baby brother and all the shit that had gone down.

And, amidst the agony, Dean felt regret and guilt settle over him.

This feeling wasn't just for that horrible night he'd let his brother leave, giving him nothing but a glare and angry silence before turning his back on Sam completely.

No, this feeling was also from knowing that at the tender age of sixteen, his Sammy had suffered alone in silence since he'd had to bare going through the nightmare of having to see his father and his older brother pinned and gutted to the ceiling and then be burned in the same fashion as the mother he had no memory of, a secret.

Two whole years that kid had suffered, two whole years of arguments and hurtful words that were thrown back and forth. Only difference was that Sam never meant any of the things that had shot out of his mouth. Dean and John on the other hand, maybe they'd been speaking what was on their minds with each barb they'd thrown their now revealed to be undeserving target. Two fuckin' years of misguided anger all dumped onto Sam's heart by those he cherished above all else.

Dean, now in his self-loathing knew that he'd failed his baby brother, that he'd failed the one person he'd sworn to protect above all else with everything he had.

He'd fallen for the lies, had let his bruised ego and hurt feelings leave Sam to fend for himself and because of it, his brother was now a freakin' Marine serving in an active war zone where he could easily get hurt or... _Worse_.

He'd hurt his baby brother when he'd swore o do no such thing.

Sure, in true Winchester fashion, Sam had survived through one year and ten months so far but, what if God or whatever diety that resided up there in the clouds decided to be cruel and rip his baby sibling from the world of the living in a hale of bullets or the explosion of a bomb, or some other nasty way of dying?

What if something took his brother when he only had just two more months left in his tour?

What if the next time he saw his kid brother, it would be in a body bag?

Dean was jarred out of his fear filled thoughts when the Impala skidded slightly of course, effectively bringing the young man driving her back to the really real world.

Swallowing the painful lump in his throat and blinking his eyes against the tell tale burn behind his eyeballs, Dean tightened his hold on the steering wheel and brought his foot down further on the accelerator.

After successfully battling back the urge to start bawling cause seriously, today just seemed like one of those rather frequent days in these nearly two years that Dean wanted nothing more that to curl up into a ball and wail out his misery till he had nothing left in him. Dean felt himself following in his father's wake as his despair gave way to anger, bright and burning in it's violent nature.

Though they, the five of them: John, Dean, Pastor Jim, Bobby Singer, and Caleb Reeves, had all put their heads together, they still hadn't found any information of the Yellow Eyed Thing that had basically driven their youngest away from them, they all still searched for the tiniest morsel of information on the evil monster responsible for all this, for this entire seriously fucked up situation.

Dean himself wanted to personally be the one to send this evil creature not back to whatever Hell it slithered out from, oh no, he wanted to destroy ever shred of it, ever piece, everything with his bare hands if he could. He wanted to destroy it in such a way that it would regret the very second it had ever set it's sights on the Winchester family, that it had ever spilled his mother's blood, that it had ever even come within a thousand mile radius of his baby brother.

_He would make it pay, dearly_

And Dean was not alone in this sentiment, the older hunters, including his father were always researching in their spare time and trying to find something, _anything _that might give them some clue as to who this Yellow Eyed enemy was.

But, at the moment, Dean Winchester too would have to settle for pair of werewolves to slake his thirst for wanting to send something supernatural to the after life.

_Meanwhile, in the city of Fallujah, Iraq..._

The dust had finally settled though the air still rang with the echoes of shots being fired, grenades blowing up once they'd hit something, and the screams of humans as their lives were violently ended.

As the dust settled, tall and dark shapes showly emerged from the smokey mists left behind by the explosives that had been spent on the land.

The place was silent now, the echoes fading away into oblivian as the first dark mass came through the smoke.

Cpl. Sam Winchester heaved a loud, hacking cough, his lungs dry. His nostrils were filled with the pungent smell of gun powder, fire, dust, blood, and death all combined into one powerful, uniform stench.

Cpl. Winchester felt his stomach roil against him as he tried to get his head on straight, behind him, more United States Marines made their way out of the dark gray abyss of smoke amdist the muffled shouts and orders that now rang through the air.

Behind Cpl. Winchester, PFCs Rashad Mathers, Greg Roginski, and Matthew Ruiz all followed, along with members of the other unit that had come in with the one under Sgt. York's command.

Sam turned to eye those behind him, doing a silent head count and anxiously waiting for the rest of the Unit to emerge through the shroud of smoke, while also being fully alert to any enemes still lurking amidst the ruins of latest melee.

After a few tense seconds, Sam felt a jolt go through him when two figure walking too closely together caught his eye.

Instinctively, Sam rushed over to see who was hurt. His stomach dropped out when he saw that it was Sgt. York who was all but dragging a bloody and PFC. Mark Twombly with him as he staggered out of the smoke.

Without saying a word, Sam strode forward to Mark's other side and carefully hooked his arm under his friend's other arm, easily and carefully taking most of the injured man's weight, much to the silent gratitude of Sgt. York, Twombly was pretty out of it, all he could do was groan loudly at the pain of being jostled, his legs like rubber, a tell tain red stain gracing the inner thigh of his right pants leg.

A peice of shrapnel, made airbourne when the car it once comprised was blown out, had slashed Mark, though thankfully, it had come short of severing an artery when Sgt. York had assessed the wound.

But, it had left a bloody mess in it's wake and blood loss out here was never a good thing.

On top of that, Mark had taken a moderate knock to his noggin, leaving him slightly wobbly and disoriented at the moment.

" You alright sir?" Asked Cpl. Winchester as he eyed his exhausted looking commanding officer.

" A little worse for wear but, I'll make it just fine, right now lets get Twombly to the fuck outta here." Ordered York as between him and Sam, they all but dragged a semi-conscious Mark Twombly to a waiting Humvee that was filled with a few more of the casualties of this latest fire fight.

Both those still lucky to be alive, and those who weren't.

Sam winced when Mark let out a loud cry of pain at having to be crammed into the Military vehicle but at this point, Sam knew that the only way to keep himself and those around him alive was to shut out his heart and ignore it's pained pleas to breakdown. Sam man-handled Mark into the Humvee the rest of the way, ignoring the tell-tale, deep red liquid that was quickly saturating the floor of the vehicle, before he turned to Sgt. York and spoke.

" Can I go with him or do you need me here sir?" Asked Cpl. Winchester, hoping that he could ride along with his friend.

" Go with him an make sure he doesn't bleed to death or panic." Barked York before he gave Sam a quick pat on the arm, signaling for the younger man to get into the Humvee pronto.

Cpl. Winchester obeyed and all but dove into the vehicle beside PFC. Twombly and then yelled out to the driver.

" Hey, are we done loadin' up everyone who's hurt or dead?" He asked, his entire being humming with urgency as he eyed the other injured guys inside the Humvee besides Mark, but also, he wanted all these men outta this car as soon as possible so that they wouldn't have to sit next to the corpses of those who had fallen during the battle, for hours on end.

" Just about, I'm just waitin for them to give the fuckin' orders to move now." Yelled back the Lance Corporal behind the wheel.

Sam nodded as felt the bile rise and burn the back of his through as he eyed the congealing blood that was slowly pooling over the Humvee's floor.

Battling back the urge to heave, Sam hardened his nerves and loomed over Mark Twombly.

" Can you hear me Twombly?" Asked Sam as he looked his friend over for any other injuries besides the wound in his leg and the possible concussion to his head.

His response was a low combination of a mumble and a groan.

" Good enough." Muttered Sam before he eyed the serious wond to his friend's inner thigh, now bleeding more profusely.

" Ah fuck." Swore Sam before he pushed Mark's M16 out of the way and reached out, clamping a large hand over the bleeding wound, trying to quell as much of the bleeding as he could.

Cpl. Winchester watched with morbid fascination as thick, warm, deep red liquid seeped though the fingers of his hand.

It was all so red and he could actually feel Mark's pulse against his palm, steadily beating and pumping.

Then the Humvee finally started moving after what seemed ages.

Sam let out a startled yelp when something fell against him and when his eyes fell on who it was, he all but bit his tongue not to scream when he realized that it was the blood soaked and bullet ridden body of one the Marine's who hadn't survived the fight.

And to add to the horror, Sam could also see that this poor man had had one of his arms blown of, the stump of which had come to rest against Sam's right thigh.

" Oh God." Whispered Sam as he watched the dead marine's blood smear his Marpat combat uniform.

After a good few seconds that seemed more like eternities in themself, Cpl. Winchester felt an ice-cold numbness settle over him.

With his free arm, Sam gripped the burned collar of the corpses uniform and pulled the man's weight off of himself.

He watched as the momentum sent the body backwards till it came to rest against the wall of the Humvee with a small thud.

The dead man's eyes were open and glazed over, staring at nothing as the body they belonged to moved only with each jostle provided by the dirt road the Humvee was speeding over to get back to base and some much needed medical assistance.

Swallowing back yet more bile, Sam reached out with his now bloodied free hand and gently touched the corpses eyelid, closing them over these dead, hollow eyes so that they no longer stared at nothing, but were closed in eternal rest.

A low moan brought Sam back to the reason why his other hand was occupied as the youngest Winchester whirled back around, focusing all his attention back to living, and one he could help to the best of his ability.

" Hey Mark, just hang on man, everything's gonna be fine." Assured Cpl. Winchester as he loomed over his friend, minutely increasing the pressure of his hand over the wound as he said these words.

" Wha happn'd?" Came Mark's garbled inquiry.

" You got pretty beat up man, just relax and take it easy. We're on our way back to base to get you and anyone else who got hurt fixed up." Explained Sam, feeling weary as hell now that the adrenaline was slowly waring off.

" Y' 'Kay?" Asked Mark and the second this simple question registered in his head, all Sam wanted to do was start bawling loud and hard but instead he battled back the burn behind his eyes and nodded furiously.

" Yeah man, I'm okay, I just didn't want to leave you by yourself. But right now, I want you to stay awake, just keep talking to me man, don't you dare fall asleep." Ordered Sam with a commanding tone that could rival both Sgt. Byron York and John Winchester with no problems.

As he sat there with the smell of blood and death trying to suffocate him, Cpl. Winchester couldn't help but give in to the most basic of human desires now.

He wanted his dad, he wanted his brother, he wanted them here to tell him that everything would be alright. He wanted the warmth that only they could give with their deep voices, the smell of their aftershave, and maybe even the feel of their arms around him.

He wanted his Daddy and his Deanie to make all of this better.

He wanted them here to make everything he was feeling right now go away.

But, this desire was for the one thing he couldn't have right now or tomorrow.

Two more months still left to go, if survived them that is.

As sat there with one hand clamped over his friend's wounded leg and his other hand smeared with the fast drying blood of a dead man, Corporal Sam Winchester began to do something rather unexpected.

He began humming the tune to one of the songs that had always reminded him of the only two people who truely made him feel safe.

And as he hummed with his voice slowly going hoarse and cracking horribly, showing a glimpse of the trauma hidden behind the stoic and calm looking expression he wore of his face, his thread bare mind sang the words to this song.

_//Back in black, I hit the sack, I've been too long, I'm glad to be back. Yes I'm let loose, from the noose...//_


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 26

Cpl. Samuel Winchester could scarcely begin to fathom what he was about to do on this morning of January 24, 2003, here inside a barrack tent within the confines of a United States Marine Corp base at the desert outskirts of the city of Fallujah in Iraq.

At this moment, Corporal Samuel Winchester was... getting ready to pack up his standard military issued duffel bag with everything he possessed.

He was about to start packing up his bag for the journey home.

That's right, his tour of, along with those of all the other men he'd been serving with in this unit, was over.

It had officially ended at midnight the night before and now, these young, battle hardened men were heading back to the United States of America.

Today.

The actual flight itself would not be taking off until 8:00 in the evening, and even then, it was a two day flight before they would officially be back home but, every single man in the unit was feeling anxious, excited, and very eager, because in the end, it would all be worth it.

But, getting back to the present, Sam was 'about' to start packing but at the moment, he was mulling over just how to do all that with only one of his hands uninjured and functioning at full capacity.

His right hand was normal, his left hand and the arm it was attached to was encased in a pristinely white, rock solid plaster cast that came up to just below his elbow joint.

Now, it may be asked as to why this cast was gracing the arm of Cpl. Sam Winchester.

The answer was simple really.

Iraq and the war that still raged over it's lands had bestowed upon Sam and several of the other marines within his unit, a lovely parting gift.

A parting _gift_ in the form of two simultaneous car bombs detonating within yards of where they had been patrolling last night.

Sam had been caught in the shock wave of the first bomb going off. The force of the blast had literally sent the youngest Winchester flying sideways.

His impromptu flight had been cut short by the standard immovable object, in Sam's case it had been a sandy brick wall. Sam had slammed into the wall on his left side, bouncing off of it to land in a dazed heep on a ground, which had done nothing in the way of cushioning his landing.

Greg Roginski and Mark Ruiz had been the ones to drag his ass out of there and onto one of the Humvees.

The entire ordeal had left the youngest Winchester with injuries that would make his father and brother and everybody else back home _so proud of him_ ( Sarcastically speaking of course).

The plethora of injures went as followed.

A left hand that was busted in two places, one bone cracked and another graced with a hairline fracture. The Ulna and bone of the left arm that said hand was attached to, had been broken clean in half. Of the nine ribs that made up the left side of his rib cage, three were cracked and two were severely bruised. His left clavicle that thankfully had remained intact but was also severely bruised as well. And finally, a nasty and rather angry looking contusion graced the left side of Sam's face that stretched from just barely half an inch from the corner of his left eye down to the arch of his cheek bone, this injury had been received when Sam's head had impacted with the wall. Thankfully a concussion had been avoided, if by the razor's edge at least. The bruise was now a rather appetizing shade of blackish purple, dark enough to look more like a tattoo over the young man's face.

In addition to having the cast on his arm, beneath the Marpat shirt he was wearing, Sam's had thick and tightly wrapped gauze around the entire circumference of his lower chest just below his pectorals. Every breath Sam took, even the most shallow one sent spikes of agony through his entire body.

But, this was a pain he would have to bare, and it could've been worse.

He could've been not breathing at all.

Now it may be left to wonder, how could the only marine within the whole corps who had prophetic dreams and nightmares that allowed him to know when certain events were gonna happen, end up in this state?

Simple, during the last two weeks of his time here in Iraq, the crazy dreams had just abruptly stopped coming.

In fact, those nights had been either dreamless, or actually filled with pleasant dreams of Dean and his father, and on one occasion, Becky Swanson, the insanely hot head cheerleader of the football team's cheerleading squad from his senior year of highschool.

The dreams had abated, and now he was one walking mess of cuts, bruises, and broken bones.

It had left him covered in brutally received marks, an show of how the dreams had actually been a lifesaver of many occasions.

But, these were all just the temporary marks the War had left on the skin of Cpl. Samuel Winchester.

The more permanent marks, the ones that ever soldier carried away with them from the battlefield lay much deeper.

These were the marks that scarred, these were the marks that made their homes, never on skin, or flesh, or bone, but past those. These marks marred places deep within, where the body cannot physically clot over these marks, these bleeding wounds.

Yes, throughout his two years of loyally and selflessly serving his country, Cpl. Winchester had received many cuts and bruises over his body, some leaving marks that would stay with him the rest of his life. But, Sam never minded these marks, they never bothered him, in fact he remembered with great fondness, the words once spoken to him by a very virtuous individual in his live.

_" Chick's dig scars Sammy."_

But enough about scars and the marks deep within a human soul, Sam shook himself out of his reverie and began picking up items to stuff into his bag. Wincing a little at the pain the movement cause, after all, it'd only been a few hours since he'd broken several bones in his body. He'd stunned just about everyone by being back on his feet once he'd been patched up. And as for now, he couldn't waste anymore time thinking about things. After all, he and his unit had only an hour to pack everything from their living spaces before they'd be heading out on a military transport to an air-base in Ramadi, another city, just North West of Fallujah.

The military planes that would be taking them home were waiting for them at this air-base.

" Hey Sam, you need some help there man?" A quiet voice asked, alerting Sam to Rashad Mathers's presence.

Sam was about to decline his friend's offer but, when his eyes fell of the worried and concerned expression on the PFC's face, not to mention how Rashad's eyes kept darting from the unsightly bruise on his face to the cast on his arm, Sam gave a small sigh before sending Rashad a wane smile and silently nodded in acceptance of the offered assistance.

Between them, Sam tackled the light and easily gripped items while Rashad managed the heavy and two hands needed items.

" How you feelin' by the way?" Asked Rashad.

" Like I told you last night man, I've broken plenty of bones, this is nothin'. But I will admit to you right now, breathin's bein' a downright bitch at the moment though." Grumbled Sam in reply as he stuffed several plain military green shirts into his open duffel bag.

It took them about twenty minutes to pack up everything owned by Cpl. Sam Winchester.

" You gonna carry all this stuff too?" Asked Rashad.

" Well yeah, what else would I do?" Asked back Sam with a shrug, instantly regretting the movement as his very sore collar-bone was jarred. He tried to bite back the grunt of pain and school his features but, it was too late as Rashad witnessed the entire action.

" Oh Hell no, you ain't doing no such thing man." Said Rashad vehemently.

He put on his best intimidating face and leered at Sam.

But, that look got him no where as Rashad found himself being the one intimidated as Sam stared him down, his moss-green eyes like two pieces of icy jade that shattered all of Rashad's walls and seemed to gaze right at his very soul.

Mathers couldn't help but think that Sam would make one hell of a Drill Sergeant one day with that one stare alone.

Rashad was about to duck away when he watched, with secret relief as those cold eyes suddenly grew warm and affectionate.

" Alright, seeing as to how this is our last day here, I'll let you get away with lookin' at me like that, you get to win Mathers, I won't try to carry my bag, I'll just drag it behind me as I walk." Rumbled Sam with a smile slowly forming over his lips.

" You do that, you gonna have Sgt. York all over your just battered ass. Don't worry, I'll carry it for you." Assured Rashad with his best grin.

To his delight, he watched as one of Sam's signature mega-watt grins made it's way to the surface, brightening up his war-weary young friend and fellow marine's face as he smiled back at Rashad.

And indeed, it'd been a very long time since he'd seen this famous smile that could put the Sun to shame.

" Alright, you can carry my bag to the truck but after that, you only carry your own." Said Sam, sending his friend a look that meant he was dead serious about what he'd just stipulated.

That was the thing about war, it always sucked away almost all the reasons for anyone to smile, to be happy, to human.

But it was different now, the war was over for these two men, and many others.

However, the war may have been over for them, it was not over for everyone else. New Marines would be arriving just as these battle weary men would be flying home.

The plain military cots that Sam and the other marines of his unit were now leaving behind, would be filled up by a brand new batch of fresh, young marines not yet baptized in the fire and bloodshed of combat.

But they would be soon enough.

And they would have to stomach it all if they even wished for a ever a sliver of a chance at surviving this place.

Like Sam and his fellow marines had.

With one final look around, Sam gave Rashad, who was understandably carrying to large duffel bags, a nod before the two of them walked out of the tent and into the late morning light, with Greg Roginski, Matthew Ruiz, and Mark Twombly following after them.

These five marines, these five friends had all managed to not get themselves perished out here.

A miracle in itself.

Or maybe it was just Sam keeping his promise to Grandma Rose.

With a final glance around what had been their home for the past two years of their lives, the five Marines all climbed into one of the waiting transport trucks and waited with barely there patience for the convoy to start moving.

They wanted to go home.

As soon as humanly possible.

_Meanwhile, back in the United States of America..._

It was 6:00 in the evening, the heavens had darkened into totally, pitch blackness, a perfect backdrop for the billions of stars that inhabited it.

On a highway, glistening in the dim evening light like the skin of a black adder, the air was split by the thunderous roar of several car engines as three vehicles came driving by with their headlights piercing through the darkness.

The first car was a sleek black 1967 Chevy Impala.

The second was a black Ford pick-up truck.

The third and final car was a large green SUV.

Inside each of these vehicles were the men who held Samuel Winchester most dear to them.

Behind the wheel of the Impala was Dean.

Behind the wheel of the Ford pick-up was John, with Pastor Jim Murphy riding shotgun beside him.

And behind the wheel of the green SUV was Bobby Singer, with Caleb Reeves grudgingly riding shotgun beside him.

The reason for this little mix up in the owner of the car being relegated to the status of a passenger was explained clearly enough by the ace-bandage wrapped around Caleb's right wrist.

Guys with badly sprained wrists made for really lousy drivers, and Bobby Singer wasn't gonna be having any of it.

These five men were headed to the state of New York, more specifically, their chief destination was John F. Kennedy International Airport.

From where he sat behind the wheel of his beloved Impala, Dean was almost vibrating with nervous energy.

This was it, the time had finally arrived.

His Sammy was coming home.

In just two more days he was gonna be able to look his baby brother in the eye and apologize to him face to face.

Just two more days before the missing piece of his heart would be returned to him.

Right now however, the five of them were heading to Pastor Jim's childhood home, which he'd inherited shortly after his mother's passing.

It was luck or maybe divine intervention that Pastor Jim's house was located in the same city where the airport Sam's plane would be touching down was so close by.

As he drove, it took all Dean had not to floor the accelerator but, speeding at night wasn't a good idea by anyone's standards.

And, Dean wasn't the only one using all his will not to break the speed limit.

From where he sat behind the wheel of his truck, John Winchester's heart was pounding with anxiety and eagerness, but it was also twinging with longing for his wayward youngest son.

His baby boy was coming home.

In just two more days he was gonna be able to look his youngest child in the eye and apologize to him face to face

Just two more days before his family would be whole once again.

In addition to the two eager Winchesters, from where he sat beside John, Pastor Jim was silently praying in English, Latin, and even a little bit of Sumerian mixed in.

He sat praying silently to the good lord, asking him for what would be the billionth time in these last two years to look over and guard Samuel Winchester.

In the final car, Caleb and Bobby were bickering over the whole driving situation and silently praying themselves for the safe return of their youngest one. They were just as nervous and anxious as the rest of this rag-tag group of men, cause they knew full well that shit could happen. They prayed with all their might that nothing happened to Sam Winchester while he was on his way home.

_Back in Iraq, on a dirt road heading into a U.S. Military air-base outside of Ramadi..._

The light brown sand and dirt flew in ever which direction as the massive black tires of the military trucks turned furiously, propelling the vehicles they were bolted to forward.

From where he sat in the back of one of the truck, Sam Winchester was in a world of hurt, with the sympathetic glances and winces of his fellow marines all directed at him, effectively making him feel worse.

The terrain was rough and uneven, jarring and aggravating Sam's many broken bones and

But, like the good marine that he was, Sam just gritted his teeth and kept silent with each spike of pain the constant jostling caused. Though at the moment he was screaming in agony inside and wanting an entire bottle of morphine pills, he took comfort in knowing that they were almost at the air-base. The torture would be over soon.

Well, this torture at least, he still had a two day flight ahead of him with where he'd have to sit in an airplane seat that would most certainly not be the most comfortable of places to travel in.

After five minutes that seemed more like five centuries, the military truck convoy finally pulled into the base.

With a tiny grunt, Sam forced himself to move, slowly but steadily he climbed out of the back of the truck before any of his friends could try to help him.

The others followed after him, all of them hoping and praying their friend didn't crumble to the ground in an undignified heap.

They needn't have worried because Sam didn't let the pain win, he walked over to the side of the truck, picked up his own duffel bag, slung it over his right shoulder, and started walking to the Hanger they'd have to wait in for the next hours.

" How the hell can he do that after all the shit that happened to him last night?" Breathed Matthew Ruiz, clearly in awe at the youngest Winchester's seemingly non-existent limit for pain as they all watched him disappear into the waiting area that had been set up inside the plane hanger.

" That's simple, he can do that cause he got no limits to how much pain he can take man, it's like he got no threshold for pain." Piped up Greg as the rest of them retrieved their bags and followed in Sam's wake.

The second Sam entered the hanger, he made a be line for the first empty seats that caught his eyes.

He gingerly lowered himself down into one of the seats and let out a small groan, letting the pain he'd been biting back wash over him until it became a dull ache over his rid and arm.

Moments later, he was joined by the members of his unit, all of them quietly beginning to hover around him, asking him if he was alright or if he needed anything.

For once, Sam couldn't bring himself to feel annoyed at the way they were lavishing him with.

He was to tired and in too much pain to give a fuckin' damn at the moment.

So, Sam sank into his eat and got into quiet conversation with the rest of the guys.

It was now 2:00 in the afternoon, the flight home was at 8:00pm.

Six hours to kill.

Among the longest six hours they would ever have to live through before they could finally, finally...

Go home.


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

_**Personal side not:** Try Listening to the song " Running Up That Hill" by Placebo while reading this chapter._

Chapter 27

The World looked like a miniature model of itself outside the airplane window.

It looked like something made out of hobby in someones basement, or used in a movie like the Lord of the Rings.

This lightly amused the young man who sat in a seat on the other side of the window, inside the plane, his moss green eyes half hooded as they stared at the world beneath.

Cpl. Samuel Winchester was in a world of hurt right now.

And the amusement he was feeling quickly faded away, taken over by the droning ache of his broken bones and bruised flesh, once again being aggravated by the unsmooth traveling.

The military jet he was currently on board had just passed through some heavy turbulence.

On land, the dirt roads of Iraq had seemed to have made it it's personal mission to make the youngest Winchester's journey as rough and painful as possible.

Now, it seemed like the clouds in the great blue sky had taken up that job, the patch of turbulence that had just passed through had actually been the fourth time since they'd taken off from the airport in Brussels late last night.

The military aircraft had made a much necessary stop in the United Kingdom to refuel and give her very weary passengers as chance to stretch locked up muscles and maybe by some souvenirs for those who they were almost home to.

But, that was hours ago, now they were back in the air and only a few hours away from their final destination.

The United States of America.

Sam let out a deep breath laced with a hint of a hiss at the end as he gingerly shifted around in his seat, trying however futilely to alleviate some of the pain in his broken ribs were causing.

He leaned his head back against the head-rest and let his eyes drift shut.

" Hey, how you doin' Sam?" Asked a quiet voice to his left.

Sam squinted his left eye open to see who was it was doing the inquiry.

His at the moment one eyed gaze was met by the concerned and expectant visage of PFC. Mathew Ruiz.

" I'm fine man, could do without all the turbulence though." Grumbled Sam with a quirk of his lips in a tiny, pained smile.

Mathew bit back a small huff of laughter at his friend's statement of the obvious.

They all could use a little less turbulence but, he knew full well that Sam didn't need any turbulence at all.

_"Why could the clouds not grant the poor guy some mercy?" _Thought Mathew as he wondered just how much pain Sam was biting back with tooth and nail.

" Who's comin' to pick you up Ruiz?" Asked Sam, snapping Mathew out of his thoughts.

" Oh, my parents and Carolina are gonna be there when we're finally home." Answered Mathew, smiling at the thought of his mama and papa, and of course, his ever faithful Carolina.

Mathew had even more reason to smile, the second he saw that beautiful woman who had stolen his heart, though he had no ring to give her, he was getting down on one knee right then and there at the arrivals gate of the airport.

Still smiling, Mathew spoke.

" What about you Winchester, who's gonna be there waiting for you?"

At this, Mathew watched as a quiet, albeit slightly sad smile spread over the youngest Winchester's face.

" My dad and my brother, I know they're gonna be there." Said Sam, his voice far away, almost tentative.

" That's good, it's about time you saw them again, I mean, after the way you guys parted..." At this point, Mathew trailed off, not wanting to add emotional pain to the pain his friend was already feeling.

" Yeah, it is about time. But I get the feeling they're gonna freak the second they see how banged up I am." Grumbled Sam.

Mathew nodded, understanding fully that the condition Sam was in was not one that anyone would want to see someone they loved and hadn't seen in two whole years, be in.

" That and, I think they'll both murder me when they find out about the tattoo." He added, his smile twitching.

At this, Mathew let out a small sputter of shock before he eyed the wonderful mirth sparkling brightly in Sam's moss-green eyes.

Before he knew it, he was laughing heartily, with Sam joining in and then groaning in pain the second after he did because his ribs twinged and hurt like a bitch.

Unfortunately, that only made Sam laugh even more.

After they'd calmed down, Mathew and Sam tapered off into quiet conversation, with Mark Twombly joining in shortly after.

Now, there were just a few more hours to go before the jet would be entering American air-space.

And from where he sat, Sam let his mind wander a bit from the conversations going on around him to let a single, poignant thought run through his head.

_" I'm coming guys. Just a few more hours and you'll have me back Dean, you'll have me back Dad. I just hope neither of you will strangle me right there in the airport when you see the sorry state I managed to get myself into."_

Slowly but surely, the aircraft carrying young men and women from all walks of life was making it's way through the sky, bringing these souls who had survived the nearly unconquerable trials and bloody nightmares of war, all the more closer to what the place that was one step closer... To home.

Slowly but surely, the air-ship was headed on a straight and hopefully unhindered path, to John F. Kennedy International Airport.

Located firmly on solid, American ground.

_**Speaking of JFK International Airport...** _

23 year old Dean Winchester prided himself at being able to handle some of the toughest situation both known and unknown to man. He could charm his way out of a parking ticket and charm his way into the arms of anything with XX chromosomes, he could hustle pool with some of the scariest looking men on the face of the Planet and make convincing fake ID cards with effortless ease. Dean Winchester could look any spook dead in their eyes before he blasted them full of rock salt from a shotgun, he could send any demonic son of a bitch back to hell without batting an eye. He could kick all ass both supernatural and not, no sweat.

But right now, on this January day, though he would die before he'd ever admit it out loud, Dean Winchester was scared out of his mind as he forced himself to walk to wards the clear glass doors of one of the many entrances to JFK Airport.

One of his hands was twirling the little gold amulet that hung around his neck between it's fingers while the other hand was clenched tightly in a fist at his side.

It was not just because Dean Winchester had a tightly guarded phobia of all things pertaining to human aviation. No, Dean was also terrified of what would happen once he laid eyes on the younger brother he had not seen face to face in nearly _three_ years, counting the months that had followed after that hellish night his brother had "Left for Standford".

However, it was a small comfort for Dean to know that he wasn't the only one feeling nervous and uncertain about how things would go down. Discreetly, Dean glanced at his father, who was walking beside him.

John Winchester's heart was all but beating itself out of his chest, the eldest Winchester had jammed his hands as deep as he could into the pockets of his winter coat so that the others wouldn't see just how badly his hands were shaking.

The two Winchester's were at the head of the 'pack' that was here at the airport for one Corporal Samuel Winchester.

Behind Dean and John were Pastor Jim Murphy, Bobby Singer, and Caleb Reeves.

Pastor Jim was still silently praying under his breath and now he was fiddling with his old, wooden rosary he held in both hands, his fingers fumbling over the beads with none of there usual gracefulness.

Bobby Singer was nervously tugging at his old Trucker's cap which seemed to be a permanent fixture on his head, while also quietly shooting insults at Caleb Reeves.

Caleb Reeves was shooting hissed insults back at Singer and also scratching at the thick, tan colored ace bandage wrapped tightly around his right wrist, cursing at the bandage for being such and itchy pain in the ass, and feeling his heart's tempo increase with every passing minute.

These five men, all of them secret hunters of all things natural, at the moment looked just as they did, a rag tag group of men in an airport, walking to wards the arrivals gates.

They were all headed to wards arrival gate number 19 in Terminal 3. _( I have no Idea so I just went with these numbers)_

The five of them quietly and quickly cut through the throngs of people leaving and going to all ends of the world until finally, gate number 19 came into view.

And already, there was a slowly growing crowd gathering around this gate.

All them the people that the marines on board two military jets who were en route to this airport were coming home to.

Dean swallowed nervously as the five of them approached this crowd of people wondering if any of them were as nervous as he was at the moment.

The five men here for Corporal Samuel Winchester all stood near the outskirts of the crowd, not seeing any way of getting closer because the crowd was jam packed against the bars that separated them from the actual arrivals gate.

" We still got a good two hours to go before there's even a trickle." Sighed Pastor Jim.

" Yeah well, I not movin' from this spot." Grumbled John, his eyes focusing on the doorways off to the distance, just a few feet away.

" Me neither." Added Dean earning a glance from his father, a ghost of a smiling forming on the oldest Winchester's face.

Dean quirked his lips in response to his father before the two of them turned eager and unwavering gazes back to arrivals gate number 19.

The three other man looked upon father and oldest son, knowing full well that these two were dead serious about what they'd just said, they wouldn't be moving an inch from this spot, not until they saw Sam with their own eyes.

They could all survive two more hours.

Barely.

Meanwhile up in the skies...

Two massive military jets were fast cutting through the clouds. The pair of planes had entered American air space just a few hours earlier and now had their final destination within reach.

The passengers on board these aircrafts were all buzzing with excitement.

Now they just had two more hours before the runway they'd be landing on would be in sight.

_" 120 minutes to go."_ Thought Sam as he absently twirled the dog-tags that hung around his neck between the fingers of his good hand, subconsciously mimicking his older brother's nervous tick with his amulet back down in the airport.

120 minutes. Once again among the longest minutes he would ever have to live.

One hour later...

True to their words, Dean and John hadn't moved an inch from where they'd situated themselves.

The other three men of the 'pack' were more mobile.

Pastor Jim being the man of God that he was, had immediately been pounced upon by people in the crowd, all of them taking advantage of having an actual fully certified priest in their midst.

The Pastor instinctively settled into his element and led prayers for the safe return of all the young men and women these people were here for on this day.

Bobby and Caleb had both snuck off to the nearest coffee joint they could find, the both of them realizing that if they didn't get some caffeine into themselves, they were gonna end up murdering each other right then and there.

It was down to 60 minutes now and they were all of them on the razors edge of patience.

But then again, so were all the other families here for their marines.

From where they both stood, Dean and John Winchester's gazes were still all but glued to the arrival gate doors, so they didn't see the person slowly walking up to them until she spoke.

" Hello."

The soft female voice laced with a slight southern effectively shook Dean and John from their staring, they both shifted their gazes and met the weathered eyes that were staring back at them.

They belonged to an old woman, her hair was white with flecks of black here and there, bygone reminders of the glossy raven black of her youth.

It was almost a comical sight, the two Winchester were like two giant oak trees while this woman seemed like a fern before them.

" Hello ma'am." Said John politely.

" Hi." Said Dean with a small nod.

The two of them were slightly confused as she stood before them, silent as she gave them both an appraising look before focusing on John.

" Now this may sound strange but, could you smile for me?" Asked the old woman to John.

John and Dean both blinked at her, utterly confused and wondering just where this old timer was going with this request.

Still, John acquiesced to the lady's request and minutely turned his lips upwards and smiled at the woman.

The smile vanished too soon though, leaving John and Dean to stare questioningly at the woman before them.

They watched as a knowing look spread over her wrinkled face as she nodded her head before she spoke with a chuckle.

" Well now, it's about time I finally met the person Sam got those adorable dimples from."

That simple utterance sent a jolt through the two Winchester as who this seasoned woman standing before them was dawned on them.

" You're Grandma Rose." They both breathed at the same time.

" That's me alright. I am here for my baby Rashad Mathers and you two are obviously here for your baby Sam." Replied Grandma Rose, a grin crinkling her face.

Then, the two Winchester huffed breathless laughs and nodded vigorously.

" Well let's not just stand here all day, come with so that rest of the family can meet you both." Said Grandma Rose, it sounded more like an order as she began to lead the way.

Both Dean and John were about to refuse when Grandma Rose turned back around gave them her patented Grandmother-hen stare.

Father and oldest son wisely deflated and followed obediently after the old matriarch.

Once John and Dean met up with the rest of Rashad Mathers's family, they were bombarded with the praises they were all but singing about their youngest one. The two of them were also left blushing just a little when one of Rashad's aunts pointed out how the Winchester trio seemed to have come from very good looking stock. The mild embarrassment increased even more when Pastor Jim managed to sneak his way over along Caleb and Bobby, these two with coffee cups in hand, the three of them joining the group.

And so, the five spent the mere minutes left before the planes carrying their loved ones would be landing by taking part in easy conversation with people who understood what they were going through. People who understood the longing that these five men were feeling because they themselves had loved ones that they desperately wanted to have back to them.

Now there was just half an hour left to go.

30 minutes more.


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 28

The air that comprised the Heavens was shattered by the booming roar of two pairs of powerful jet engines.

The fluffy white clouds parted to reveal the two massive man made birds of flight, these machines carrying a precious human cargo within them as they slowly descended from the skies.

Corporal Samuel Winchester sat with his hands white knuckled where they gripped the arm-rests of his airline seat. He was clenching his jaw tight enough to have his teeth gritting against each other.

His whole body was on fire with a dull, droning agony as the plane rattled furiously as it descended back down to Earth. Sam could feel his broken and bruised ribs minutely lurching inside him with each vibration that rocked the plane.

_" I am never getting on a plane injured in any way ever again, I don't care if it's a fuckin' paper cut."_ Thought Sam as he rode out the waves of pain that were crashing down on him without mercy.

Then, Sam felt someone else's hand clamp down on his right arm. He turned his pain filled eyes in that direction and found the concerned and worried gaze of Mathew Ruiz staring back at him. Sam sent his buddy a pained smile that looked more like a grimace before he spoke.

" At least we're landing." He grumbled out.

Mathew nodded in agreement before the two of them settled in for the final minutes of there time in the air. They waited for slightly impatiently for the plane's landing gear to touch down on the runway.

After a few more minutes, the shaking abruptly stopped. There was a split second of tense silence and then, loud cheers of excitement and howls of joy erupted all through out.

Sam let out a quiet sound of relief before he sank into his seat, utterly feeling drained and still in pain. He didn't howl for joy or yell like the rest of his fellow marines because he wasn't sure his ribs could survive that kind of taxation. He couldn't clap his hands together either because his left was busted. Instead, he grinned widely, tolerating the slight twinge the ugly bruise that graced left side of his face gave because he did so. He carefully pumped his uninjured hand in the air in a fist.

The plane rapidly lost the speed it had accumulated while landing, slowing down to crawl.

" Oh my God, I'm back." Said Sam under his breath as the plane was driven by the pilots at a speed that seemed even slower than a regular four wheels car to wards the docking area.

After what seemed to be simultaneously an impossibly long and impossibly short amount of time, the massive airship came to a full stop. There were excited mummers all around as these now newly anointed war veterans waited for the massive rolling staircase to attach itself to door of the jet.

Sam sat in his seat feeling both giddy and terrified.

Then, there was a loud popping sound as the jet plane's air-tight door was opened, sunlight pouring in, golden and warm.

A dull metal clang alerted them that the staircase had been attached. The pilot's voice rang loudly through the intercom but Sam's ears only registered a loud buzzing. When the flight attendants came forward and started giving them instruction on how to disembark in an orderly fashion, Sam only heard snippets of what was being asked with soft, professional voices over the thunderous beating of his own hammering heart.

Sam was brought back to the really real world by Mathew Ruiz shaking his good arm.

" Hey, you with me Winchester?" Asked Mathew.

" Yeah man, I'm with you. But, how're we gettin' off this bird again?" Asked Sam with a comical look on his face.

" Oh, we just have to get off in an orderly and calm fashion. Be patient man, the guys and gals in the back sections are gettin' off first, then it's us in middle." Said Ruiz with a small shrug.

By now, Sam's patience, along with the patience of every single man and woman on the plane was wearing very thin, almost to the bone.

It took all of their marine corp discipline and personal self restraint not to just make a mad dash for the exit.

So they waited and sure enough, Sam and the other members of his unit were getting out of their seats and making a long, straight line in the aisle as they slowly made there way to wards the jet's door, and the golden day light of home that was spilling in through it, beckoning to them.

Sam heart still pounded and his injured body still ached as he finally came to the threshold and for a moment, the light blinded him.

He blinked them furiously until his vision cleared, then he stepped forward and bit back a gasp as the cold January air of New York instantly engulf him.

His first embrace back in America.

As though on autopilot, Sam gripped the the railing and followed after the Jarhead before him down the staircase.

He was once again jerked back into the world of awareness when his boot covered feet stepped onto the flat surface of the Docking Area.

With a shaky exhale, Sam followed within the tan, Marpat clad sea of Jarheads as they all made their way to the waiting shuttle buses that would transport them to there designated Terminal and arrival gates.

Sam, Rashad, Mathew, Mark, and Greg all quickly and eagerly boarded the bus that would be heading for Terminal 3, where arrivals gate number 19 was located.

Where the ones these five marines along with the rest of the marines on the bus, loved with all their hearts were waiting for them.

From where he sat on the bus, Sam was beginning to feel groggy and light headed both from the nervousness and from the pain that was assailing his body.

Part of him wanted to lay down and sleep for just a little while, to give in to the urge to rest and heal, but he ignored his body's calling.

He had to stay awake, he had to be strong. He was a marine for God's sake, he had survived through so much, he was not going to pass out because of a few broken bones no matter how much pain he was in.

He was not going to scare his family like that after they hadn't seen him for _years._

It was fine, everything would all be just fine, being with Dean and his dad would make everything alright.

Sam toughed out the none too gentle ride to Terminal 3 and when the bus mercifully stopped, he was one of the first to all but dive out of the large transportation vehicle and head inside the Airport building, with his buddies scrambling after him.

The five of them all bantered quietly as they waited for there duffels to come through the conveyor belt of the baggage claim for Arrivals Gate number 19.

_" Almost here guys."_ Thought Sam as he watched and waited for his bag to show up, tapping his foot impatiently where he stood next to Greg.

Sure enough, lumpy green mounds came through the flaps of the little gate at the mouth of the conveyor belt.

Mark Twombly was the first to retrieve his standard issue military duffel. He yanked it up with effortless ease and slunk it over his shoulder. He sent his four other buddies a smug looked before he stepped off to the side to wait for them with his back turned. Had Twombly looked back, he would've been scared to see the slightly murderous gazes of Sam, Rashad, Mathew, and Greg all but searing holes into the back of his head.

Sam was the next one to spot his bag, he was about to reach out with his good hand for it when he felt a restraining hand on his shoulder.

He turned to see Rashad Mathers giving him a warning look, which the other two marines after him coupled with their own.

Sam bit back a sigh and nodded, watching as Greg Roginski scrambled after his bag and pulled it up trotted back to them.

Sam felt frustration course through his because they wouldn't give him his bag, Greg insisting on carrying it for him.

In the passing minutes, Rashad, Mark, and Greg all found their duffels and hoisted them up, Greg nearly went tumbling back wards because he was carrying two of these heavy ass bags.

" C'mon guys, just let me carry my own bag damn it." Grumbled Sam.

" Hell no." Answered back Rashad, Greg, Mathew, and Mark all in perfect unison as the five of them were finally walking to wards the doors of Arrival gate number 19.

" Pushy women the three of you." Mumbled Sam to himself as he walked.

But annoyance was quickly replaced by terror with each step he took.

As he walked with his hands minutely shaking, Sam couldn't help but have a single thought running through his head.

_" Oh man, Dean and Dad are gonna kill me."_

Meanwhile, on the other side of the arrival gate doors...

Dean was pacing nervously, glancing at the arrival doors every few seconds, seeing if anyone was coming through them.

_" C'mon Sammy, get you ass through those doors already, I've waited long enough." _Thought Dean as he cast hard eyes of the doors once again.

Behind him, John stood with Pastor Jim, the two of them just as anxious as Dean, their eyes never once wavering from the glass doors of the arrival gate.

After what seemed an eternity, these glass doors finally slid apart, opening because something had tripped the motion censor.

The result was instantaneous as the crowd erupted into excited mummers as the people drew closer to the doors and waited for the first Jarhead to walk through.

Dean stopped pacing and all but ran into the crowd with John close behind him.

Pastor Jim turned and called to Bobby and Caleb, alerting them to the beginning of the much anticipated arrivals.

The three of them followed in the two oldest Winchester's wake.

Then loud, thunderous cheers and whoops erupted as the first man walked through the doors.

Then, more shaven heads followed after him through the doors.

Soon, a massive swell of tan marpat clad people with shaved heads poured in through the doors and quickly collided with the crowd, meshing into it.

Dean tried to cut through the crowd as fast as he could, his eyes burning with salt as he eyed those who were reuniting with their Marines while he was still desperately searching for the Jarhead that belonged to him.

He was so lost in the crowd, searching through the many, many faces looking for the one, he didn't notice a pair of deep, moss green eyes staring at him with a breaking and swelling heart just a few paces away from the crowd of soldiers reuniting with the loved ones they'd left behind.

Sam stood with his eyes swimming in salt, which he quickly blinked back for the time being.

His heart had jolted the lurched when he'd caught sight of Dean, clad in his signature brown leather jacket and looking dreadfully haggard within the crowd, desperately searching for him through the chaos.

With a small swallow, Sam turned to the four friends flanking him on either side.

He reached out to Greg and silently took his duffel bag from him with his good hand. He carefully slunk the strap of his back over his right shoulder, trying as hard as he could not to jar his very abused body any further.

With a look, Sam silently relinquished them of their self imposed duty to always stand by him no matter what.

He relinquished them of their duties to carry his bag for him and be worried about whether his injuries became to much to bare.

" Guys, go find your families. They've waited long enough." Said Sam with a soft smile.

Rashad, Mathew, Greg, and Mark all nodded silently, feeling their eyes begin to burn as the reality of the situation sank in.

Their families were in that crowd, waiting and searching for them.

" See ya in a few man." Smiled Rashad, the others saying similar promises before they all quietly slipped away, albeit a little reluctantly, melting into the crowd, getting ready to surprise the ones waiting for them.

This left Sam alone to gather his courage while he eyed his frantically searching brother and father.

With a shaky breath, Sam forced his feet to move to wards the crowd of people with many flecks of tan marpat in it.

From where he stood, Dean was fast falling apart.

_Where was Sam?_

_Why couldn't he find Sam?_

_Did something happen to him?_

_Where was his baby brother?_

" Dean!" A familiar voice calling to him snapped Dean out of his frantic searching.

He turned around to see his father, still pretty far back but slowly trying to make his way towards his oldest son through the sea of joyously weeping mothers and the soldiers they were squeezing to death.

" Have you found him?" Called John as he eyed his son.

" No!" Called back Dean forlornly.

Dean had turned around to see where his Dad was so, he didn't see the tall young man clad in desert Mar pat and a clean white cast around his left arm slowly come up to wards him from behind.

Frustration was rolling off of Dean and steam was just short of blowing out from his ears as Dean reached up and raked his shaky fingers through his hair nervously.

He was just about yell out Sam's name as loud as his lungs could go when the universe itself came to a griding halt as he felt a hand come to rest over his leather jacket clad shoulder and squeezed tentatively.

Dean went utterly still, afraid beyond words to simply turn around and see who it was behind him. He dared not to even breath as he stood there, the rest of the world fading away into far off echoes.

The Winchester brothers stood this way for what seemed like a life-age of the Universe, Sam standing behind Dean with his hand gripping his big brother's shoulder, Dean standing with his back to Sam and his lungs having temporarily forgotten how to draw in much needed oxygen.

Then, a jolt catapulted through Dean entire system and his body was whirling itself around furiously, his mind not registering the movement because it was busy forming a single word.

" SAMMY?!" Yelled Dean.

He felt his eyes grow to the size of satellite dishes at what he beheld before him.

" H-Hey Dean." Stuttered Sam, trying desperately to keep his jaw from trembling as his eyes stared down at his feet.

Dean scarcely breathed yet again as he looked over his baby brother, whom he hadn't seen in almost three entire fucking years, from head to toe.

He zeroed in immediately on the dark purple bruise on one side of his brother's face and the clean white cast that encased his left arm.

When Dean felt like he could speak, his mouth shot out the first words that his vapor-like mind formed.

" Dude... You look like shit."

It came out sounding like he was slightly dazed.

Honestly, he kinda was at the moment.

Despite himself, Sam broke into a slightly hysterical, watery chuckle the second these words registered.

But, Sam quickly sobered steadied his fragile nerves as best as he could.

Tentatively, Sam took a step forward and closed the distance between them.

With a trembling hand, Sam slowly reached out towards Dean, using all his will to make his hand move.

Dean held his breath as he watched his baby brother's shaking hand was slowly coming at him.

He realized with slight confusion that Sam's hand was reaching for his chest.

With a shaky breath through his nostrils, Sam closed the remaining distance and wrapped his badly trembling fingers around the gold amulet that hung around his big brother's neck.

Feeling warm and calmed from touching this simple piece if jewelry, Sam licked his lips and spoke that first thing that came to his mind as well.

" Dude, you don't look so good to the eyes either, do you even remember what a shaving razor's function is?" Asked Sam with another watery chuckle, absolutely thrilled to be actually making fun of his big brother and his rather substantial accumulation of facial hair as his fingers toyed with Dean's amulet, re familiarizing themselves with it's contours and ridges.

Something about hearing his baby brother's laugh in person and not through a telephone line made something within Dean snap out of his daze stupor and forget about being cool and manly in the famous Dean Winchester way.

With a barely stifled sob, Dean lunged forward and all but tackled Sam into a massive bear hug.

Thankfully for Sam, Dean had thrown his arms around his shoulders, saving his fragile and already well abused ribs from being crushed.

He still felt a new twinge of pain blossum through him as his bruised left clavical was jarred. Sam bit back the grunt of pain and focused only on fervently returning the tight embrace Dean had around him, tears finally leaking from his eyes without shame as he buried his face into his big brother's neck as tiny sobs wracked through him.

Dean, also with tears coursing down his face kept on saying " Sammy" and "I'm sorry" over and over again as his hands roamed his baby brother's broad, uniform covered shoulders and his downy, shaven head. Dean was still trying to fathom this moment as one of reality and not one of dream like it had been for nearly three years.

" Dean, what are you saying sorry for?" Asked Sam tearfully against Dean's neck, most of the terror he'd been feeling all throughout this entire day had faded away into oblivion.

" F-for everthing, but mainly... T-that night... I..." Dean began but found it difficult to go any further.

" It's okay, don't worry about it, I told you it was nothing. I knew were just pissed." Said Sam, trying to be reassuring while also sounding slightly pained.

Dean instantly remembered how utterly like crap his sibling had looked when his eyes had first fallen on him and sure enough, Big Brother Mode kicked in at full force.

Dean reluctantly pulled pried himself off of the young man in his grip and held Sam at arms length with his hands of the young marine's shoulders and rapidly began to shoot worried laced questions at him.

" Sammy, where else are you hurt? How did you mark up you face and bust your whole arm? How bad is it really? Is anything else broken? Do you need to sit down?"

With a small sniffle and already wanting to be back in that warm bear hug, Sam reached up and futiley wiped at his tearing eyes while he tried to remember each question that had been very rapidly asked.

He met Dean's near desperately expectant visage and was about to answer but, the answers died before they could reach his lips when he caught sight of the person standing a few feet in the distance behind Dean.

Dean eyed Sam's now fearful gaze staring past him and turned his gaze in that direction to see what had Sam looking so scared and felt a jolt at who his eyes fell on.

John Winchester stood there, just feet from both of his sons, his face pale as a sheet and looking uncharacteristically uncertain with a small amount of fear evident as well.

Dean's gaze darted back and forth between the two other members of his family and silently, he stepped aside.

His previous questions could wait for the time being.

With another sniffle, Sam took a step forward and began to walk towards his father. John mirrored his youngest son's motion and began to walk to meet his son.

They came to stand about an arm's length from each other and simply stared at each other with Dean anxiously in audience where he stood between them and a few feet back.

Like Dean before him, John immediately zeroed in on the marks that blemished his boy. The dark bruise on his face and the cast around his left arm made a jolt of worry go through John as he blinked furiously against a tell-tale burn behind his eyes.

Sam fidgetted nervously where he stood, feeling a hell of a lot younger under his father's gaze.

" H-Hello Sam." Said John finally, sounding nothing like the confident and strong man Sam had butted heads with so many times.

" Hello sir." Replied Sam, his voice sounding just as uncharacteristically fragile.

With a small swallow, John slowly, hesitantly reached up to wards his youngest son's face.

Sam's breath hitched and his jaw began to tremble slightly when he felt the feather light touch of his father's finger tips as they gently ghosted over the ugly bruise on his face.

" Sammy, you're hurt." Said John, instantly feeling like an idiot the second these words left his mouth.

He was John Winchester, stater of the obvious.

" Yeah, yeah I banged myself up pretty hard." Said Sam with a breathless huff of laughter.

The father felt his heart soar at the soft sound of his youngest son's laughter.

John, feeling reassured that his touch would be allowed further reached up and with both hands, he held his son's face for the first time in nearly three years.

Sam felt whatever fear was left inside him fade away as he felt his father's large, calloused hands against his cheeks.

Then, Sam felt his entire face crumble like a house of cards.

" Dad." Sobbed the young marine, and that just about did John in.

The oldest Winchester rushed forwards and threw his arms around his wayward youngest son and proceeded to do a very fine immitation of a boa constrictor as he squeezed him tightly.

Only problem was, John hadn't thrown both his arms around his son's shoulders like Dean had. No, John's right arm had snaked under Sam's left arm and in the process had found the young marines injured side.

" Ahh Dad wait!!!" Cried out Sam as his poor ribs instantly made their sorry state known loud and clear.

It was enough to leave the youngest Winchester feeling light headed as he wrapped an arm protectively around his injured chest while leaning against his father, his forhead coming to rest on John's shoulder as he rode out the waves of immense agony and kept his breath as even as possible.

Dean was instantly at his family's side, he and John both alarmed as Hell as they proceeded to hound their youngest.

" Sammy, what's wrong?" Asked Dean and John urgently, both of them with ressuring hands around their youngest, terrified that he might collapse.

It was understandable because all the color had drained out of Sam's face, he was trembling where he stood slightly doubled over, and his eyes were slightly glassy as they looked at the worried faces of his father and brother.

Sam blinked back the tears of pain and with a small gasp he stood upright. Without taking his left hand off his father's shoulder, Sam licked his lips and spoke as best as he could as he looked from Dean to his dad.

" I broke a few ribs too and no, I don't need to sit down but maybe we could get out of this crowd and go somewhere quieter?" He gritted out.

" Oh Sammy, I am so sorry." Said John, utterly mortified as he realized that he'd unwittingly caused the agony his son was now in.

" No Dad, it's okay you didn't know." Assured Sam quietly before he reached over hugged John, this time making sure that his father's arms were around his shoulders before _he_ now proceeded to squeeze his father very tightly.

John let a few quiet sobs escape him as he squeezed back not nearly as hard out of fear that he'd hurt his boy again, all the while whispering apologies into his Sammy's ear.

Dean bit back his own tears as he quietly rubbed the Sam's shoulder, just taking in the sight of his father and his baby brother hugging for a few long seconds.

Then he remembered Sam's quiet request to get out of this massive crowd of extremely emotional people and the high potential for further agony if any one of these people plowed into him because he was basically being a stationary target just standing here.

Reluctantly, Dean reached over and shook John's shoulder firmly, getting both John and Sam's attention as they drew apart a little to look at him.

" Hey guys, let's get outta here and find somewhere more quiet like Sammy said." Said Dean.

" Yeah, we'll meet up with the others." Said John as he nodded in agreement as he stood with a firm hand on the back of Sam's neck, subconsciously keeping his son from going anywhere.

" Others? Who else is here?" Asked Sam with a small sniffle, not minding his father gentle but restraining hand because he had no intention of going anywhere but with his family.

" Pastor Jim, Bobby, and Caleb are here to, they're probably drowing in the crowds." Answered John as he looked around the massive throngs that surrounded them.

" Well then, we're just gonna have to fish them out while we move through this crowd now won't we?" Smiled Sam, his voice still cracking a little as he spoke.

" Oh no, me and Dad are gonna do the fishing, you are just gonna take it easy." Said Dean as he pinned Sam with a look that warned him not to say otherwise.

" Okay, fine. Jerk." Said Sam with one of his famous grin slowly spreading across his face.

" Bitch." Grumbled Dean before he found himself smiling back and reaching up to playfully ruffle the top of Sam's buzz-cut head.

" Boys, language." Scolded John, but there was no heat behind his words, and a tell-tale grin was slowly sprouting across his face as he eyed his two boys.

" Yes sir." Said Dean and Sam in perfect unison, the two brother still grinning from ear to ear.

Then the three Winchesters, finally together after so long, walked off into the massive crowd with the two eldest flanking the youngest on either side protectively.

They had some much needed fishing to do.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's personal note: Don't worry, there are still a few chapters left to this story.

On a more serious not, in this chapter, Samuel Winchester may have found his brother and his father in this chapter but, in the real world, I have lost my heart and soul forever.

My beloved father died on January 5, 2008 and 2:00 in the afternoon after months of suffering through unimaginable pain.

I dedicate not only this chapter but this entire story that I have written to him, the man who loved me unconditionally and along with my mother had dreamed about me his entire life.

I love you Daddy, with all my heart and I know that you did the same, even to the end.

I was blessed to have you as my father and I miss you very much.

I will never be completely whole again, but I will keep going and I'll take care of Mom, like you would want me to.

I will keep going. I promise.


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 29

Pastor James Murphy always believed himself to be a very patient man, it was a job requirement. But at the moment, the Pastor wanted nothing more than for God himself to make a little repeat of his actions in regards to a previous problem Moses had encountered and part this massive crowd in half like he did the sea.

Pastor Jim just wanted a way to get through the crowd and continue his search for all three of the Winchesters.

The Pastor was currently stuck near the center of the crowd of many many over joyed people. From where he stood uncomfortably close to a rather large and heavily tattooed man, most likely some Marine's biker uncle named Larry, the priest found himself getting more and more irked with each second that passed by.

Then he felt something vibrate furiously inside his jacket pocket and heard the muffled tune of a ring tone amidst the din of the crowd. Pastor Jim fumbled his phone out of his pocket and with a check of the Caller I.D. he quickly brought the phone to his ear, preparing to answer the incoming call.

" Jim where are you?" Asked the voice of John Winchester into the pastor's ear before he could even get a single word out.

" I'm stuck here in the crowd a little ways behind where you and Dean disappeared off to. Have you found him, have you found Sam?" Asked the Pastor urgently.

" Yeah, me and Dean found him, well no, actually he kinda found us first but forget that for later. Right now we're trying to get him out of this crowd asap, do you know where Bobby and Caleb are at?" Asked John from where he stood guard in from of his youngest son while Dean had Sam's back, Sam's duffel back was slung over one of his shoulders. He'd nearly had a heart attack when Sam had tried to reach for the heavy bag in an attempt to carry the damn thing himself from where he'd set it on the floor,

Dean had stopped Sam cold from carrying out that action with a single warning look.

" Reeves and Singer are probably behind me somewhere." Answered Pastor Jim with a small grimace as he was jostled to the right by another group of people who were heading out of the crowd themselves, or trying to anyway.

With the phone still pressed to his ear, Jim heard muffled voices on the other end of the line. Then a deep, quiet voice filled the Pastor's ears, effectively making the priest not really care so much about his current surroundings.

" Pastor Jim? Hey it's me, Sam."

The Pastor momentarily unable to string together even the most basic of sentences as Sam tentative voice rung through his ears.

" You there Pastor Jim?" Asked Sam, effectively snapping Pastor Jim out of his speechlessness.

" Y-Yes boy, I-I'm here. Are you okay Sam?" Asked the Pastor Immediately.

" I'm a little worse for wear but, I'm alright. Listen Pastor Jim, could you maybe raise your phone as high as you can." Asked Sam, smiling where he stood securely between his father and brother.

" Sure Sam, I just hope you can spot it through all chaos." Said Pastor Jim before he acted on the aforementioned request and raise his cellphone as high as his arm and the very tips of his toes could allow.

" Yatzee." Smiled Sam as he spotted the phone and the pale hand holding it, he pointed in it's direction with his good hand.

" Knew that freakish tallness of your's was good for something." Grinned Dean, ecstatic to poke fun at being able to partake in one of his favorite sports, making fun of Sammy.

" Don't make me put you in a choke hold Dean." Countered Sam with a glint in his moss green eyes.

The look he sent Dean had the older Winchester sibling wondering for a moment if his baby brother, a freshly deactivated from combat United States Marine Corporal wouldn't actually carry out the threat he'd just uttered.

Then, Sam let one of his spectacular grins spread across his face before he playfully punched Dean's shoulder with his good hand, earning a happy chuckle from his big brother.

" Boys, let's get to Pastor Jim before the poor man gets himself flattened." Said John, silently over joyed at seeing his sons' antics.

With two collaborating nods, Sam and Dean followed after John as they began to make the slow, tedious way through the crowds in the direction his newly returned youngest son had pointed at earlier.

All the while, John kept looking over his shoulder at Sam with barely concealed worry.

Dean shared his father's anxiety and kept a protective hand over Sam's shoulder as the three of them moved on wards through the crowd.

The two older Winchesters were in full guard mode, not wanting any further pain or injury to befall an already battered Sam.

After a good amount of time spent carefully weaving their way past many other reuniting families, John spotted the familiar head of graying hair and clergy men's garb of mostly solid black, with a single square of white at the collar.

" Jim, over here!" Yelled John, waving furiously to get the beleaguered Priest's attention.

Pastor Jim heard John's voice and turned around to where he best guessed the oldest Winchester's voice had emanated from.

The second he did he froze, his weathered eyes grew wide as he gawked at the three men standing just a few feet from him.

More specifically, he gawked at the tall, shaven-headed young man standing between John and Dean with a rather large purple bruise marring one side of his face.

Then, as if on autopilot Pastor Jim began weaving his way to wards the trio as fast as he could.

John, Dean, and Sam did the same, making their way over to meet the Pastor half way.

The second they were all about an arms length of each other, Pastor Jim spoke the first thing that popped into his head.

" What the hell happened to you Sam?" Asked the Priest as he took in the sight of the youngest Winchester, forgetting for a moment that he wasn't supposed to swear seeing as to how he was a man of God.

Before Sam could answer, the Pastor spoke up again, pointing at Sam's cast encased left arm.

" What happened to your arm too?" He asked dumbly.

The three Winchesters were momentarily stunned by the Pastor's rather uncharacteristic choice of words but then, Sam spoke up to answer the questions that had been asked.

" It's a really, really long story. I tell you later."

Then with a breathless chuckle, Sam reached out and lightly yanked the shell-shocked Pastor into a tight hug, being careful to mind his many painful injuries.

That seemed to snap Pastor Jim out of his stupor instantly. With a bobbing adam's apple and his eyes welling, the priest returned the embrace tentatively.

" It's alright Pastor Jim, I'm alright." Said Sam into his mentor's ear.

" Thank God for that you Block-head, you foolish Block-headed boy." Said Pastor Jim through a fast closing up throat.

Now, any other day Dean Winchester would've had a field day with this massive Chick-flick moment. And the fact that Pastor Jim had used such colorful language and was being dwarfed by Sammy but, on this day he didn't have the heart to joke about the tender moment.

And it was nice to know that, he and his Dad weren't the only ones overjoyed to see Sammy alive and well, if too battered and bruised for any of their liking.

Dare he say it, Dean felt happy.

He felt alive again, the gaping void that had been punched into his heart nearly three years ago was finally filled.

When Sam and Pastor Jim finally pulled away, the older man was all but blubbering while Sam chuckled and tried to stop the old man's tears.

" I hate to cut the water works short Jim but, we should really find Bobby and Caleb and get the Hell out of this crowd now." Said John finally with a small smile.

With a small sniffle, Pastor Jim regained some of his composure but remained teary eyed as he nodded in agreement with the oldest Winchester.

" Well then, Bobby and Caleb are in there somewhere." Said Pastor Jim as he pointed behind him with his thumb.

" Let's go find them." Smiled Sam, the smile turned sheepish when Dean and John gave him their best warning looks.

With that, the four of them began to weave through the massive crowd, Dean, John, and Pastor Jim surrounding Sam in a basic trinity of protectiveness as they moved through the crowd, making sure no one got close enough to jostle the injured young marine.

After a few minutes of weaving and keeping an eye out for either a worn trucker's cap or a baldish head, Sam raised his good hand and pointed up ahead with a grin.

When Dean, John, and Pastor Jim followed Sam's pointed hand, they too felt the urge to laugh as they caught sight of both the worn trucker's cap and a baldish head that belonged to Bobby Singer and Caleb Reeves respectively.

The two of them where not only effectively jammed between several reuniting families but, they appeared to also be covertly trying to wring each others necks.

John weaved his way a few steps ahead of the others with him and cupped his hands around his mouth as he yelled out.

" HEY BOBBY, CALEB QUIT TRYIN' TO MURDER EACH OTHER AND GET YOURSELVES OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!" Boomed the oldest Winchester.

The oldest Winchester's voice effectively caught the attention of the two remaining members of the original group of five men who had entered JFK Airport earlier in the morning.

The second their eyes fell on the tall young man with the large bruise across his face standing with Dean, John, And Pastor Jim, Bobby and Caleb weaved and ducked there way over to them as fast as they could.

When they finally reached the group they were attached to, Bobby Singer and Caleb Reeves stood before Sam Winchester and gawked at him.

Bobby was the first to do more than gawk as he took a step forward and reached up towards Sam's face. Sam obliged the incoming touch by bending his neck down just a little.

Bobby tentatively grazed his fingers over the large bruise near Sam's left eye much like John had done earlier before with a small sniffle he spoke with a gruff, emotion filled voice.

" Ya idgit Palm Tree."

_" Good old Bobby Singer."_Thought Sam as with a small chuckled he pounced on Singer before the older man could, saving himself from another trip on the Pain Train like the one his father had inadvertently sent him on earlier.

" Danggit Sam, ya stupid boy, what the hell were ya thinkin' goin off to that place? What the hell were ya thinkin?" Hissed Bobby as he hugged Sam back tightly around his shoulders.

" M'sorry Bobby." Whispered Sam as he hugged the older man back as tightly as his injured body would allow.

Dean, John, and Pastor Jim were relieved to see that Sam's injured body wasn't being jarred by the hug, but they all sent Caleb a warning look, silently telling him to be careful. Reeves nodded in acknowledgment and watched Bobby and Sam with a happy smile.

Today was that rare day that Chick-flick moments got to run free and wild.

The two of them hugged for a few more seconds before Sam and Bobby reluctantly pulled apart from the embrace.

Sam turned and smiled as Caleb Reeves stepped forward.

" Geez Dude, How did you bust yourself up this much, did you get yourself blown up or something?" Asked Caled with a small grin.

The grin fell completely off his face and left a stunned, mortified expression behind as he watched Sam avert his gaze and grow pensive at the question.

It was answer enough.

Caleb glimpsed at Dean, John, Bobby, and Pastor Jim and found that they were mirroring his expression as they were all but burning holes into the young man just returned to them.

" Oh you are definitely explainin' that when we get to Pastor Jim's Sam." Growled John as he sent his youngest son a no nonsense look.

" Yes sir." Said Sam as he turned to look over his shoulder at his father for a moment before he turned back to Caleb.

" It's good to see you Caleb." Said Sam quietly with a small smile before he reached out and pulled the hunter into a hug like he had Bobby.

" It's good to see you too Sam." Sighed Caleb as he carefully squeezed the tall young man back.

When they pulled away a few minutes later, the now six man group began to once again cut through the massive crowd with Sam protectively in the middle and his family surrounding him.

They made quick work of getting through the crowd and finally reached the outskirts where they'd originally been standing with the Mathers family.

Sam was finally clear of the crowd, much to the relief of those who had been surrounding him in a protective circle.

" Hey Sam, get yourself over here, Grandma wants you!" Called out Rashad as he spotted his friend within the crowd of older men surrounding him.

" Guys, let me through." Said Sam quietly.

The five older men reluctantly let their youngest one out of the protective circle they'd formed around him.

The crowd that was Rashad's family also parted ranks as their oldest one slowly made her way past with a firm grip on Rashad's arm as he walked with her each step of the way.

The three people met each other half way. Grandma Rose eyed Sam, Sam eyed Grandma Rose. For the longest time, they simply stared and then, Grandma Rose gently shrugged off Rashad's arm around her shoulder and took a shaky step forward, her wrinkled, weathered hands slowly began to reach up towards the youngest Winchester.

Sam stood silent and still as Grandma Rose's gnarled hands lightly glided over his tan marpat uniform. He watched with a small pang in his heart as the old woman's eyes slowly began to well and glisten with tears once they'd fallen on his cast covered left arm and hand.

Then with a small sniffle, Grandma Rose promptly buried her face into her hands and began to bawl freely and without shame.

Sam swiftly strode forward and gently pulled the weeping grandmother into a firm but gently hug.

The tall young marine all but engulfing the frail old woman.

It would have been a comical sight had it no been so sad and heart warming at the same time.

" Please don't cry ma'am, I'm okay, just a little banged up here and there but I'll be fine in no time." Said Sam low a deep in an effort to sooth the old woman he had inadvertently upset simply by looking as awful as he did.

Instead of soothing, Grandma Rose's weeping seemed to increase as she hugged Sam tighter. So Sam just stood their holding the old woman and patiently waited.

" What you me don't cry? Look at you, you look absolutely dreadful." Wept Grandma Rose.

" Thanks a lot." Chuckled Sam.

Behind the youngest Winchester, the five hunters stood and watched the tender scene in silent respect. Dean didn't feel the urge to crack a joke, he and John didn't feel any jealousy rise up within them, Pastor Jim just smiled, while Bobby and Caleb were surprisingly a little misty-eyed, though they tried their best to hide it.

After several long minutes, Grandma Rose finally composed herself, she and Sam pulled away from each other smiling as their respective family came up and surrounded them.

Soon after, Greg Roginski, Mark Twombly, and Matthew Ruiz along with their loved one joined them, all of them eager to finally meet the youngest Winchester's rather enigmatic family.

The Winchesters and their three close family friends all mingled and introduced themselves, enjoying being regular people for a few precious minutes, enjoying being with families who understood what it felt like to have a missing piece of themselves returned to them after going years without it.

But then, Sam's many injuries finally made themselves known loud and clear, and not even Sam's will could keep the agony at bay any longer.

Dean and John were instantly at his side when they saw him sway a little and loose a good chuck of the color from his face.

" Sammy, I think it's time we got outta here." Said Dean as he gently gripped his brother's uninjured arm.

" Yeah, you're brother's right Sammy, you look like you're about to pass out." Added John as he kept a hand on his youngest son's left shoulder.

Sam merely nodded his agreement before he allowed his father and his brother to carefully pull him away from the crowd of people with Pastor Jim, Caleb, and Bobby following after them.

But once they were free of the crowd and a few paces away, Sam stopped and turned to face the crowd.

Dean, John, Bobby, Pastor Jim, and Caleb were all taken slightly by surprise to see that not only were Rashad Mathers, Greg Roginksi, Mathew Ruiz, and Mark Twombly standing at the very front of the crowd, but there was a virtual sea of Marpat tan as a whole slew of other young marines had joined these four young men and stood tall and smiling back at them.

Then as one, the crowd of freshly minted young war veterans let loose a series of thunderous, spirited cries and began pumping their fists into the air in unison.

**" ORAH!... ORAH!... ORAH!... ORAH!..! "**

Each cry reverberated through everything, including the six men standing before the larger crowd.

John, Dean, Pastor Jim, Bobby, and Caleb all felt a thrill run up their spines at this thunderous noise of triumph and joy.

John and Dean turned their gazes to the tall young soldier standing between them.

Cpl. Sam Winchester stood silent, with a smile painted over his slightly paled face, momentarily forgetting the pain of many injuries suffered as he let the praise and warmth from his friends and fellow marines wash over him.

From where he stood beside his youngest son, John Winchester felt a deep surging wave of pride wash over him for his child. And a quick glance to his oldest told John quite clearly that Dean was feeling the same way.

Sam let a small, sad sigh escape him before his smile widened into one of his full grins before he slowly raised his uninjured right arm and held it in a fist in the air.

" Orah." Said Sam softly, half because his ribs probably wouldn't allow a full thunderous yell back and the other because his vocal cords weren't agreeing with him much either, clogged with emotions he would not utter out loud.

Deactivated or no, he was still a marine after all.

Then,with his grin dimming a little with sadness and waving at the massive crowd, Cpl. Sam Winchester turned away from his many brothers of the USMC and began to slowly walk away, back to the life he'd left behind for two whole years.

The thunderous roars and cheers of his fellow marines and their own families still echoing behind him

But he didn't have to walk back alone, the people he'd left behind were here with him now as the six of them began walking out of the airport.

He was finally home.

Home to Dean, to his Dad, even to Pastor Jim, Bobby Singer, and Caleb Reeves.

That was by far the best feeling in the world.


	30. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 30

Sam Winchester was in a word of hurt.

To say the least.

Each step of his feet and each breath that entered his lungs sent tiny, white hot lances of agony through his whole body as he walked through the brightly lit expanses of JFK airport, surrounded by his very worried family.

Dean and John Winchester didn't even bother to hide their worried stares while Pastor Jim, Bobby, and Caleb all sent the young man their own glances of concern.

And indeed, these many looks of worry were not without their justifications.

After receiving that thunderous and joyous send off from his fellow marines, Sam condition had started rapidly deteriorating. All the color had drained out of his face, making the bruise near his left eye an even nastier shade of reddish- purple. Sam's colorless lips were held in a tight thin line, his jaw clenched hard against the pain his body was in. His broken arm and many broken ribs throbbed with each beat of his heart.

The pain meds he'd taken earlier had officially worn off.

" Hey Sammy, you alright?" Asked Dean softly as they were all finally nearing one of the Airport exits.

Sam turned to eye his expectant older sibling a moment before he answered with a wane smile that looked more like a grimace.

" I'd be lying to you if I said I was Dude." He said quietly.

Dean let a small wince cross his face at his baby brother's soft admission before with a small smile of sympathy that did not stay for very long on his face, he reached out and gently squeezed Sam's left shoulder. A large, callouse roughened hand gently coming to grip the back of his neck let Sam know that his father had heard his words too and was giving him silent reassurances.

These gently touches did indeed bring comfort to the young marine who was quietly suffering.

As the group of six men neared the doors of the exit, they automatically slid apart to grant them their way out into the chilly January air of New York.

Sam bit back a groan and the urge to curse till he turned blue in the face as the wintry cold instantly began biting at him without mercy because he had no jacket.

But in true Marine Corp fashion, Sam remained stoic and uncomplaining as he walked between his father and his brother with their three family friends following close behind them as they quickly made their way towards the parking lot.

It was now that both Dean and Bobby were glad that they had found parking spots for the respective cars they'd driven to JFK in as near to the entrance of the lot as they could.

Dean and John hurriedly led the way towards the nearest car, the 1967 Chevy Impala.

When Sam's eyes fell on the sleek black muscle car, his current agony momentarily faded into the background as a toothy grin spread over the freshly deactivated marine's bruised up face.

" What'cha grinnin' at little brother?" Asked Dean when they'd almost reached the Impala.

" Nothing really, just glad I finally get to see something way more better and beautiful than your hideousness." Said Sam with a mischievous spark within his green eyes.

Before Dean could respond to the good natured barb, the barking laughter of all the older members of their group impeded his way.

Dean sent a glare Sam's way but didn't put any real heat behind it. After all, he did agree with his brother about one thing, the Impala was indeed a beauty.

However, despite the merriment he had caused, Sam kept up his smile but his abused upper body was in no condition to join in with the laughter.

In fact, much to the youngest Winchester's chagrin, the pain was getting worse.

When they all finally reached the Impala, Bobby and Caleb broke away to go find Reeve's green SUV with the promise of following after the four remaining men.

Dean stepped aside to go pop the trunk and deposit Sam's heavy military issue duffel bag into it before hurrying back to his brother's side.

Before John could open his mouth to ask, Dean was handing his father the keys to the Impala with a small nod.

John couldn't help but smile inwardly as he took the offered keys and unlocked the driver's side door and opened it so he could reach around inside for the lock to the passenger side door.

Dean pitched in and pulled the car door open before he climbed inside and was all but pulling Sam in after him, easing his injured baby brother out of the bitter cold with Pastor Jim offering additional assistance.

Once Sam was safely inside, Pastor Jim shut the car door and quickly shuffled around to the front passenger seat and hurriedly climbed into the vehicle after John had unlocked the door for him.

Despite the pain, Sam found himself feeling safe and content as he sat in the back seat of the Impala with his big brother beside him. Warm memories of the past danced across his mind as he sat with the feel of familiar leather.

Some of the best times of his life were here in the back of this car.

Like when he was no more than a toddler, safely wrapped in his favorite blanket with BoBo the teddy bear held close as he lay with Dean's arms wrapped around him, always there to protect while their father was driving them to their newest destination.

Or when he was a few years older, the three of them laughing at one of Dean's supposedly awesome jokes.

And of course, that one time when he was thirteen and he caught Dean in here with Charlotte Rolander, the prettiest girl in the high school Dean went to at the time. Dean and Charlotte had turned as red as tomatoes and for the remainder of that week, Dean couldn't bring himself to look him in the eye cause every time his older brother did, he'd burst out into snickers.

However, all too soon the memories were whisked away as a new spike of pain lanced through Sam's injured body.

Then the Impala was rumbling to life, the movement further jarring his many broken bones.

The youngest Winchester used every ounce of will he had left not to groan loudly and tightly screwed his eyes shut as he rode out this latest wave of pain while the Impala began to move forward in earnest.

Thankfully, the ride quickly smoothed out after the initial lurch forward.

It was a minimal reprieve for the youngest Winchester.

Sam was so busy tying to keep the pain at bay while also trying to hide his severe discomfort from the three other people in the Impala that he ended up making it all glaringly obvious, especially to a certain older brother who happened to be sitting right next to him.

The newly deactivated USMC corporal nearly jumped when he felt a warm, slightly calloused hand gently hook around the back of his neck and gently tug him to the right.

Sam tensed and resisted the hand's pull, the habits of being a stoic and strong marine instantly rising within him but, Sam quickly found himself to tired and in pain to muster up any true resistance, and most of him didn't actually mind.

So with a small sigh, Sam allowed Dean to slowly and carefully pull him sideways so that he was basically tipping over towards his big brother.

As his body slowly came to rest over the leather expanse of the Impala's backseat, Sam felt slightly taken by surprise when his head came to rest on still warm, slightly worn brown leather completely different from the car seats material.

A split second later realization had him feeling a deep surge of warmth inside that eased away some of the pain he was in.

His big brother being the dexterous young hunter that he was had silently shed his jacket and folded it onto his lap before he'd pulled his younger brother to him.

As he lay their with his head pillowed on his brother's jacket, the youngest Winchester discreetly nuzzled at the well-worn brown leather under his cheek.

Sam let his eyes flutter shut while the smell of leather, buckshot, and aftershave all mixed together into one distinct, longed for scent filled his nostrils with each carefully inhaled breath he took.

This scent was in essence, the very scent of home.

From where he sat looming over his baby brother's reclined form, Dean felt his lips curl upwards into a small smile as he felt Sam's body fully relax against him.

It had all but gutted him mere minutes earlier to see his younger sibling sitting in the back of the Impala, battling with tremendous effort to keep the agony he was truly in from showing on his face.

Naturally, his efforts proved fruitless because Dean had seen right through them.

As he gazed at his brother's bruised face, Dean felt some of the anxiety leave him as he watched the small lines of pain diminish.

With slight hesitation, Dean slowly laid his hand over Sam's left bicep and gently squeezed.

A few moments later, long and slightly calloused fingers were gently wrapping around his thumb and index finger.

Sam's right hand.

Dean blinked back the sudden burning sensation that had started behind his eyes and simply wrapped his two fingers around the fingers of Sam's uninjured right hand and squeezed them back.

As he chanced a looked at Sam's bruised countenance, he felt his smile grow wider with amusement.

_" My Little Brother, what a Tough Guy."_ Thought Dean, seeing right through Sam's act of keeping his eyes closed and feigning rest.

Dean's complete attention was so focused on the brother he was all but cradling to him that he didn't notice two sets of smiling, older eyes watching them both.

From where he sat riding shotgun, Pastor Jim smiled inwardly at the quiet happenings of the backseat.

It was indeed a pleasure to see Dean Winchester having a small moment of vulnerability, a rarity the hardened young man hardly ever got a chance to experience most of the time.

John Winchester felt both elation, and sadness as he discreetly eyed his two sons with the aid of the Impala's rear-view mirror.

It filled his heart to see his two boys together after so long, to see a smile on Dean's face, and Sammy's safe and alive in his brother's arms.

Sadness mingled with the joy though because of the realization that this moment almost couldn't have happened.

His baby boy had been hurt bad, bruises and busted up bones.

There had been a possibility that his youngest son could have fallen in battle just days before he was supposed to return home, that there were most likely several instances over a long two year period when their youngest could've been taken from them.

A small pang of anger shot through John as his thoughts continued.

He was furious at the thing that had taken his wife and driven his youngest child away.

He was furious that their lives had been shattered the way they were.

He was even just a tiny bit angry with Sam for lying to them and going of to fight in a Goddamn War of all things.

But, just as quickly as it had made itself known, the anger drained out of him with the long suffered guilt of over two years replacing it.

John felt his heart twinge as he thought of how much he had heart his youngest, he felt guilt that his youngest couldn't come to him and tell him about the nightmare that had started this whole period of their lives when he was only sixteen years old.

And now, his son was nineteen years old and a battered veteran of War.

He hadn't seen his son for so long.

But he had his son back now, Dean had his little brother back.

They were together.

And if John had any say about it, they would stay that way from now on.

But at the moment, John returned his focus back to driving and avoiding as many pot holes and uneven sections of tar as he could.

There was much to talk about, many issues that needed to be resolved.

And of course, there was an injured soldier who was held very dear to many hearts who needed to be taken care of till his injuries were healed.


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 31

From where he sat behind the wheel of the Impala, John Winchester felt an immense wave of relief wash over him as he caught sight of Pastor Jim Murphy's New York house just a little ways down the street he's just made a turn into.

John twisted around in his seat to eye two of his three passengers from where they were situated in the back seat.

His sons.

To his chagrin, John immediately noticed that Sam's color had not improved in even the slightest of ways.

The newly returned USMC Corporal was pale as a sheet where he still lay over the leather covered width of the back seat with his shaved head pillowed on Dean's lap.

Pain was still etched into Sam's face, even though he'd fallen into a restless doze someways back while they'd been en route to Pastor Jim's house.

Dean was softly whispering nonsense words of comfort and lightly rubbing his hand back and forth over Sam's marpat uniform covered upper left arm, being mindful of the limb's cast encased lower half.

Sam was breathing shallow and rattling through his nose, subconsciously leaning closer to to his older brother and soaking up the freely offered comfort.

Dean looked up from where he was trying to sooth his baby brother's pain to meet their father's gaze, noting that Pastor Jim had also twisted around from where he was riding shotgun in order to eye the backseat.

" How's he doin' Dean?" Asked John softly, his entire visage taking on a worried and expectant look.

" He may be sleepin' but I don't think it's helping him any. We gotta get him out of this cold air fast Dad." Answered Dean before he once again focused all of his attention back onto the sleeping little brother who's muted pain he was trying to ease to the best of his abilities.

" Well, you better wake him up because we're here, the house is right up ahead." Informed John before with a nod of acknowledgment from Dean, the father turned back around and added just a bit more pressure onto the accelerator as the Impala rolled forward over the asphault.

Dean nodded mutely and let a small sigh escape him before turning his gaze back to his sleeping little brother.

" Alright Sammy, time to rise and shine." Said Dean with moderate volume as he gently ran his right hand over the downy, shaven top of Sam's head.

" Hmmm." Came a small hum as the younger brother stirred and came out of his body's not very restful attempt at slumber.

Dark green eyes slowly fluttered open and blinked themselves into focus before they turned upwards to the older brother looming above.

" Hi." Said Sam, a wane smile curling the corners of his lips upwards as he stared up at Dean.

" Hey Sammy." Replied Dean with a small, tired smile of his own.

Unconsciously, Dean began rubbing the hand he still had over Sam's head back and forth over the downy expanse.

Sam sent a questioning look up at Dean and it was all that was needed for the older brother to figure out what was being asked.

" We're Sammy, so you're gonna be able to lay down on a nice comfortable bed and get outta this cold air." Said Dean.

To his silent delight he watched as the smile on Sam's lips widened.

" A bed sounds like heaven right now, and some of the pain meds I got in my bag might do me some good right now." Said Sam, doing his best to stifle a wince.

His tightly bound ribs were throbbing in time with his heartbeat and his broken left arm and hand were twinging just a little bit under the itchy white cast encased around then.

" Just hold on a bit longer then Sammy, we're only a block away from Pastor Jim's." Came a familiar, older voice.

" Yes Dad." Replied Sam with a small sigh.

From where he sat, John felt a small ache in his chest.

His youngest boy was in pain, and he wished that he could reach Pastor Jim's New York residence as quickly as he could but dared not even think about making the car go any faster than he was right now.

If he went any faster he risked causing the pain Sam's injured body was already in to increase ten-fold.

He just wasn't going to do that to his boy.

Sam didn't need any more pain than what he was already suffering through and what he would have to go through once they all reached the house and he would have to get out of the car.

In the backseat, Sam let out a small grunt as he began pushing himself back up into a sitting position.

" Just take it easy Sammy." Said Dean as he gently gripped his brother's right shoulder and pushed him up the rest of the way.

" Ow." Whispered Sam softly as he leaned back against the leather seat and breathed through the spikes of pain the movement had caused.

He was also almost immediately missing Dean's warmth.

Dean reached out and wrapped his hand tightly around Sam's right shoulder, squeezing it nearly to the point of bruising as he silently gave his brother his reassurance.

He wished he could take the pain away completely.

John took extra care as he finally reached the house and maneuvered the Impala away from the street and into the empty space in the driveway beside his own gargantuan black pick-up truck.

Surprisingly, Pastor Jim was the first one to actually exit the Impala, showing remnants of youth with his speed and he quickly made his way round the front of the shiny black car and made a b-line for the front door of his New York residence while he fished out the keys from one of his jacket pockets.

John was the second to climb out of the Impala, with a glance to see what the Pastor was doing, John quickly reached for the handle on the car door immediately behind the driver's side and yanked it open.

He bent down so that he could worriedly eye the two young men still inside the vehicle.

" You boys ready to get out of the cold?" Asked John.

" Yes sir." Came the perfectly synchronized answers from both his sons, Sam's sitting at the door and Dean behind him.

John let a small chuckle escape him before he held out his hand to Sam.

The oldest Winchester felt a small pang go through him when he eyed the grateful look Sam sent him before he reached out and took his father's offered hand with his own, uninjured one.

But, the look of gratitude was all too soon replaced by a grimace as Sam willed his injured body to climb out of the Impala.

" Just take your time son." Said John as he reached up to gently grip Sam's elbow with his free hand as his youngest slowly rose to his feet.

Behind Sam, Dean slid along the backseat and kept a hand on his baby brother's right shoulder as he followed him out of the Impala.

Sam grunted softly as he stood up, he closed his eyes and breathed as deeply as his injured ribcage would allow in an effort to ease the agony that had flared up at the movement.

But, through the haze Sam could feel two pairs of hands keeping him steady.

Sam blinked and then looked from the worried face of his father to his right and his brother's to his left. Then he nodded silently.

The three Winchesters began to move towards the house, Sam moving gingerly, John and Dean at the same pace and never letting go of their youngest.

Somewhere in the distance they all heard a deep rumbling, a second car engine.

Caleb Reeves and Bobby Singer had arrived.

No sooner had the two men climbed out of the vehicle, John Winchester was barking at them.

" Guys, can one of you please get Sam's bag out of the trunk? It had his pain meds in it."

" I'm on it." Answered Caleb, trotting off towards the sleek black muscle car to get the asked for item.

Bobby quickly made his way over to the Winchesters and followed close behind them as they made the slow and worry filled journey towards Pastor Jim's house.

Though it was a very short distance, for Sam it felt more like miles upon miles, his whole body screaming for alleviation from the agony.

But, he stayed silent and never complained, he just walked with his father and his brother holding him up.

Caleb soon joined the four of them with Sam's heavy military green duffel in hand.

Reeves couldn't help but marvel at how Sam had lugged this thing around at the airport with a busted left arm and an equally damaged ribcage.

He'd ask the kid later, right now he and everyone else were just anxiously trying to get the young marine out of the near frigid weather which was surely _not _helping in improving his condition.

Slowly but surely, the five of them made their way up the cement walkway and up the front steps.

When they reached the front door and an anxiously waiting Pastor Jim, Sam lightly shrugged of Dean and John's hands.

" All three of us can't go through the door all at once, I can make it don't worry." Said Sam with a wane smile before he turned and stepped over the threshold.

Behind him, he did see the collective eye-roll executed by Dean, John, Bobby, and Caleb.

There silent way of saying: _" Like Hell we aren't going to worry."_

For Caleb and Bobby there was the added: _" There goes that famous Winchester stubbornness, rearing it's head."_

The four men quickly banished these exasperated thoughts and all but dove in after Sam, both because they wanted to once again be at his side that very second and because they seriously wanted to get out of the cold, and maybe have some fresh hot coffee.

The older men all piled in, eying Sam where he was waiting dutifully at the base of the stair with a worried Pastor Jim beside him.

" Sammy, you sure you're up for getting to the second floor?" Asked John as he neared his youngest son.

" It's not that long, I can make it Dad." Answered Sam sending an absolutely haggard smile his father's way.

Movement out the corner of his eye made John turn his head in time to see Dean silently make his was past him to Sam's side, wrapping a gently arm around Sam's shoulders, preparing to help his baby brother get up the stairs.

John couldn't help but feel a small tendril of pride wrap around his heart at the sight.

Dean, always ready to take care of his brother.

Always.

But, pride was soon replaced with concern as John too stepped forward, following closely behind his boys as Sam and Dean made there was up the stairs first.

Pastor Jim, Bobby, and Caleb completed the procession, following a few steps behind the Winchesters.

Each step of the staircase was like a wrecking ball to Sam's will, which had served like a wall between him and the utter exhaustion he'd been keeping at bay, not just the days after he'd been injured, but for most of the two years he'd been fighting to stay alive during his time in Iraq.

It started after his first gun battle and had slowly been building with each time he had to take someone else's life in order to preserve his own.

What had compounded this exhaustion was the added burden of his dreams, his nightmarish dreams of premonition, or knowing and seeing events before they had yet unfolded and in many cases, not being able to do much.

From where he walked ever loyally by his brother's side, Dean could feel Sam lean more and more of his weight against him with each step up the staircase.

Thankfully, after what seemed a countless amount of time the brother's were on the second floor.

From having stayed here in this house for several days before Sam's arrival today, Dean silently and gently led the way towards the room he'd been staying in.

The one that had two queen-sized mattresses.

Needless to say, Dean had gotten very little sleep in that room the last few days. At night he would simply lay awake in the bed he'd claimed and stare unwavering at the unoccupied one, always imagining his baby brother sleeping peacefully in it.

Now, he wouldn't have to imagine anymore and that had Dean feeling a strange, content warmth spread through him for a moment before he once again focused on his injured little brother as they ducked into the aforementioned room.

Once they were in the room, Sam summoned up whatever waning strength he had left in him to stand up as straight as he could so that he was no longer leaning so heavily on Dean.

Dean still had his arm wrapped around him though, and that was fine as Sam made his way over to the bed that was still immaculately made.

Behind them, the two brother's could hear their father and their three family friends quietly enter the room, murmuring softly to themselves.

When they neared the bed, Sam gently shrugged Dean arm off and began gingerly lowering himself onto the edge of the mattress.

From where he stood, John felt a small ache go through him as he watched his youngest move so slowly and carefully in an effort to keep the pain at bay.

But, the ache faded into determination as John turned to his friends.

" Caleb, hand me that bag will you." He said, holding out his hands for the duffel the other man quickly handed over.

" Jim, can you get get a glass of water?" He asked the Priest.

" I'm on it." Answered Pastor Jim with a nod before he turned and left the room to go get the needed item.

Bobby noticed that one of the windows was slightly open so he wordlessly stalked off to go close it.

John hastily mad his way over to his boys and spoke.

" Sammy, where did you put the pain meds?" Asked John as he set the large duffel bag down at the foot of Dean's bed.

" In the side pouch right there." Said Sam quietly, pointing at the small pocket near one right end of the bag.

John reached over and quickly unzipped it, he dug inside and pulled out a medicine bottle.

The bottle contained a mild pain-killer.

John felt relief for a moment, these pills would help his son, not hurt him even more in the long run.

Now all that was needed was the water he'd asked Jim to get.

" Ow." Came a small, low moan.

It had John instantly turning his gaze back to his son's.

Sam was sitting slightly haunched over with his uninjured arm wrapped protectively around his lower chest.

John and Dean were by Sam's side in an instant, each older Winchester taking a seat on either side of their youngest on the bed.

" Just take it easy Sam, you'll be able ta take yer' meds as soon as Jim get back in here." Said Bobby where he stood by the edge of Dean's bed, Caleb nodded in agreement as he anxiously hovered near Sam's bed.

Sam nodded mutely and breathed as deep as he could.

Not a moment too soon, Pastor Jim came all but running into the room with a tall glass of water.

The Priest quickly made his way over to the trio sitting on the bed and handed the glass off to Dean before taking a seat on the edge of Dean's mattress, facing them.

John made quick work of opening the medicine bottle and shaking out two white pills into his palm.

" Here you Sammy." He said, carefully dropping the pills into Sam' uninjured hand.

Sam raised his hand to his mouth and quickly tucked the pills into his mouth before taking the glass of water from Dean.

Bringing it to his lips, he took a long sip to filling his mouth and then swallowed, ingesting the pills in the process.

It would take them a while to take effect but the knowledge that they were inside help make some of the pain more easy to bare.

With that in mind, Sam reached with his hands for the buttons of his MARPAT uniform and began slowly undoing them.

Seeing this, both Dean and John moved to assist.

Dean helped Sam get the left sleeve on the unrolled, being extra careful as he unraveled the fabric over his brother's cast encased arm.

John helped Sam get his right arm out of the combat uniform top, getting the uninjured limb out first so that his battered left limb wouldn't get aggravated further.

Once Sam was free on that, John silently slid off the bed, his hand seeking out the laces on Sam's boots.

" Oh no Dad, you don't have to do that I mean, I can-" Sam began with a small gasp of surprise, feeling both warmed and embarrassed by the gesture when John looked up and cut him off.

" Just humor your old man Sammy." He said with a small, tired smile.

" Yes sir." Mumbled Sam.

There were rumbling chuckles all around as the other men in the room watched Sam's cheeks flush as he ducked his head, allowing his father to untie his boots for him.

Once the laces were loose, Sam wiggled his feet out of the boots quickly before his father could pull them off for him.

John smiling to himself, quietly swept up both boots and set them neatly side by side before the nightstand between both the bed.

Then, he was climbing to his feet and retaking his seat over the edge of the bed next to Sam.

There was a beat of silence in which all of the older men gazed at the youngest one among the, just taking in the sight of him.

It was Dean who spoke.

" Alright Sammy, spill."

Sam sighed before he obeyed the order.

" Well it's simple really, it was my last Night patrol and we were just about ready to leave when two car bombs went off all at once. I just happened to be standin' to close to one of the cars that blew up."

There was a collective gasp at these quietly spoken words as everyone stared wide-eyed at Sam as he continued.

" Anyway, I didn't get burned, thank God but, the shock wave from the blast was so strong it sent me flyin'. I probably would've gone really far had there not been such a hard stone wall in the way. I slammed into it and the next thing I know I'm on the ground, seeing stars and with my entire left side completely numb. Greg Roginski and Mark Ruiz dragged me outta there and got me into one of the Humvees. On the way I didn't really feel much but once we were safely back in camp I nearly passed out, it hurt so much."

Another sigh escaped Sam and to his relief, he could finally feel the pain his body was in start to fade to a dull ache.

" Jesus Sammy." Swore John while Dean sat there staring at his brother, feeling like his insides had turned completely to ice.

That was way to close for comfort for anyones liking.

Before he knew it, Sam found himself being pulled tightly against a solid chest, arms carefully but firmly wrapping around him, being mindful of his injuries.

" It's okay Dean. I'll be good as new in no time. I promise." Whispered Sam, his throat slightly tight as he sank into the embrace, his head tucked under his brother's chin.

A warm, callous roughened hand gently cupping the side of his neck made Sam's throat tighten further.

He could tell them more later, but for right now he just wanted to feel this for as long as he could.

This feeling of being safe and protected.

* * *

**Authors note: This chapter is for Sammygirl1963, Happy Birthday and may there be plenty more birthdays to come! **


	32. Chapter 32

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 32

" So Sammy how's about you give us the full list of all bodily injuries suffered?" Asked Dean Winchester as he eyes his younger sibling, who was still really banged up and now slightly drowsy on pain medication.

" Do you want the long or short version of the list?" Asked Sam where he was reclining against the headboard of his bed and a whole bunch of extra cushy white pillows.

" Long and truthful." Said John, sending his youngest son a _" Don't you even try to cut corners"_ look.

Sam nodded and took as deep a breath as his battered ribcage would allow to get his slightly addled mind to recall just how many injuries he'd suffered as a goodbye present from the city of Fallujah.

" Well, I escaped a concussion thanks to my helmet and ended up with only a big ugly bruise on my face as you can see. My left hand it busted in two places, cracked in one place, hair-line fractured in the other. My Ulna bone broke clean in half. And as for my rib cage, I got three ribs cracked and two just bruised. I bruised my collarbone up too but, that's about it. It's nothin' really and the rest of me is fine, still in one piece. Hopefully, if nothing else goes wrong, I should be healed up in a few weeks. So don't worry, I'll back to hunting with you guys in no time." Said Sam with sleepy smile.

He was met with dead silence so still and deep, one could probably hear a pin fall to the floor downstairs in the kitchen.

The five older men all stared at the young marine and wonder if there had been more damage caused to Sam's head by the combination of hard impact with a wall in Iraq, the long journey back to the United States of a America, and effects of the medication he had taken to combat all the pain the two prior events had caused.

John Winchester stared at his boy like he'd just pulled an elephant out of his mouth.

But indeed, what had come out of Sam's mouth had not been something tiny in itself.

" Sammy are you sure you didn't get a concussion when you hit that wall?" Asked Dean.

" Yes I'm sure I didn't get one, they wouldn't have let me on the plane if I had. Why?" Asked Sam as he send Dean a slightly puzzled look.

" Well it's just, you're whole life you've made it clear how you feel about hunting. What you just said a second ago was the last thing _any_ of us expected you to say. " Answered John with the four other men staring at Sam nodding their heads in agreement.

They all watched as Sam heaved a tiny sigh and nodded before he spoke.

" You're right I don't like hunting and I really wish that all our lives were different but, to be honest I never really minded hunting that much. I only started pretending to really want out of our life style after I... After I had that dream when I was sixteen." Said Sam softly and carefully not meeting any of the five gazes directed at him as he continued.

" And besides after these last two years I... I'd much rather deal with the monsters that aren't human."

These softly spoken words resonated through every single person in the room.

For reasons they all silently figured out the five older men all felt something inside them crack as they processed the youngest one's words.

Feeling the need to change the rather somber mood that had settled over everyone, Sam remembered something.

" Oh! And Um... There's also a little something else that I gotta come clean about cause you're all gonna end up finding out anyway." Said Sam.

" What do you mean son?" Asked John, his curiosity peaked along with those of the four other men surrounding Sam.

" Yeah Sammy, what is it?" Added Dean as he eyed his little brother.

He, John, Pastor Jim, Caleb, and Bobby all watched as a slightly sheepish looking Sam carefully reached over with his cast encased left arm, his well-busted up hand seeking out the short right sleeve of his olive-green military T-shirt.

Carefully not meeting any of the curious gazes zeroed in on him Sam pulled the green cotton material up so that his upper right bicep came into view.

And when it did, all noise simply ceased in the room.

It reigned for a good few minutes before John finally regained his voice.

" Samuel Nathan Winchester... Is that what I think it is?" He growled as he pointed an unforgiving index finger at his youngest son's arm and the newly revealed artwork gracing it.

" If you're thinking it's a tattoo then yes, you are correct sir." Said Sam quietly.

" Explain Sammy. _Now._" Ordered Dean whose voice finally decided to show up.

" Well, while I was at Camp Geiger the guys in my Platoon all have tattoos and when they found out I was the only unmarked man in the whole barrack they decided to get me inked before we shipped out. So when a day for personal liberties came up Greg and Rashad dragged me off to the local Tattoo Shop. They wouldn't take no for an answer so I just came up with something simple. The guys just wrote it off as their early birthday present to me. Well that about sums it up really." Said Sam with a light shrug.

" Let's have a better look at it then boy." Grumbled Bobby.

Wordlessly, Sam pushed himself off slightly of the headboard of the bed and sat up as straight as his body would allow before bracing his back against the headboard once again. He brought his right arm over and held it out so that the five other man could get a clear few of his right bicep.

The moment John and Dean Winchester's eyes got a good clear look at their youngest one's newly revealed tattoo they both found most of their anger at him for getting it in the first place evaporate like dew against the summer sun.

Pastor Jim, Bobby, and Caleb all felt their heartstrings being lightly tugged at as they took in the tattoo.

And indeed all five men had to agree that this tattoo wasn't as bad as they had assumed.

John instantly felt his throat close up when he caught sight of the dog-tag bearing his beloved wife's name with a small cross accompanying after it. And when he caught sight of the tag bearing his own name the father felt a small surge of pride swell inside his heart when he caught sight of the amazingly accurate looking U.S.M.C. rank insignia that followed after his name.

Once a Marine Always a Marine rang true for the oldest Winchester.

Dean bit back a smile as he caught sight of the tag bearing his name and the signature logo of one of his all time favorite rock bands. He also felt a small pang go through his heart when he caught sight of the tag bearing the late Mary Winchester's name.

It also led him to wonder just what their Mom's reaction would've been had she been here to see her youngest son's 'Ink'.

In his mind Dean imagined that she probably would've blown her top like Mt. Saint Helens.

But then again Dean could only imagine.

The two Winchesters and their three friends and fellow hunters all found themselves marveling at the amazing detail that this tattoo had. It almost looked like real barb wire wrapped around Sam's bicep and the dog-tags looked as if they were actual pieces of metal with letters and that they have been carved into, that words had been delicately chiseled across their surfaces.

" Sammy it's-" John began but the rest of that sentence died on his tongue when a soft noise echoed through the room.

Snoring.

Five pairs of eye zeroed in on the young man laying in the bed and all grew wide.

There was Cpl. Sam Winchester freshly returned from war, snoring to his heart's content.

Apparently the pain meds he'd taken just minutes earlier had finally kicked in at that moment.

And knocked him out cold.

" Unbelievable." Sighed Dean with a loving smirk as he stared at his now sleeping baby brother.

The older men all broke out into quiet, deep chuckles as they eyed the sleeping teenager.

" Well what do you know, my boy's still a lightweight when it come to any kind of pain reducing substance." Chuckled John.

" Still is." Sighed Dean before he stood up and began thinking of a careful way to get his baby brother under the covers of the bed he was currently sprawled out over, completely conked out.

Seeing his oldest son's actions and instantly understanding the intent behind it John rose to his own feet and silently offered his own surprisingly gentle assistance.

The three other men in the room watched in respectful silence as the two older Winchesters gently poked and prodded their sleeping youngest until Sam was securely and snugly under the covers of the bed.

" Guys, why don't we all head downstairs for some coffee?" Said Pastor Jim as softly as he could with a subtle underlying message that Bobby and Caleb got loud and clear.

_We head downstairs for some coffee and leave John and Dean to some private time with their boy._

" That sounds great." Said Bobby just as quietly.

" Count me in." Added Caleb as the three other hunters all slowly rose from their seats around the room and made a quiet B-line for the door.

" We'll see you guys in a bit." Said Pastor Jim to Dean and John.

Both Dean and John nodded and sent small appreciative looks to Pastor Jim, Bobby, and Caleb.

With small smiles the three other hunters made their way out of the room as noiselessly as they could.

This left only the three Winchester men to each other although only the oldest two were conscious to acknowledge that fact.

Sam just kept on softly snoring to his heart's content.

Dean sank down seemingly boneless onto the edge of empty queen-sized bed right across from the one Sam was sleeping in.

He dimly felt the bed sag with additional weight next to where he sat and deduced correctly that his father had joined him.

The two oldest Winchesters simply sat there side by side in the relative silence and stared at their sleeping youngest.

It was John who finally broke the silence.

" He sure looks beat." Sighed the oldest Winchester.

" Yeah but, after everything he's been through who can blame him?" Asked Dean as he stared at his brothers pale and bruised up face.

" No, nobody'd dare blame him for that." Said John while shaking his head.

The two tappered off into silence for a while after that, Dean and John both feeling all of the emotions they'd kept inside for nearly three years starting to bubble up and want freedom.

It was Dean who spoke first now.

" God Dad, I feel so happy I think I'm gonna burst but at the same time, I'm angry, I'm sad, and I'm a little bit scared too. It all just wants to shoot outta me all at once." He said softly both because he didn't want to wake up Sam and because his throat was closing up because of all the aforementioned emotions whirling around inside his heart.

John simply nodded his head and placed a firm hand on Dean's shoulder giving it a good hard squeeze as he spoke.

" I know Dean, I'm feeling just about the same as you right now. A part of me wants to hold that boy over there and not let go for a good long while, another part of me wants to whack him upside the head and yell at him till I turn blue in the face. But I think for right now we should just let him sleep and just be thankful that he's here, that even though he's a little banged up, he's home." Sighed John as his eyes turned to his youngest son where he lay sleeping.

Dean nodded and the two older Winchester men let the silence take over once more, the two of them simply staring at Sam, drinking in the sight of him least he somehow disappeared.

But, after twenty minutes both Dean and John thought it best to leave their youngest to his well deserved slumber and head downstairs for some of that coffee Pastor Jim, Bobby, and Caleb were already enjoying.

The two older men exited the room as quietly as they could with lingering glances at their youngest before they closed the door to the room and made their way downstairs.

An hour later inside the room moss green eyes slowly fluttered open as sleep left them.

Sam blinked a few times and quickly gained his bearings.

He was laying in bed with the covers tucked around him snugly, there was a second queen right across from his, a dull but tolerable throbbing coursed through him telling him his body was still very much injured.

With a small exhale Sam pulled away the warm blanket and comforter covering him and gingerly pushed himself up from the bed.

When his sock covered feet were firmly on the carpeted floor Sam haunched over and breathed through the small spikes of pain his movements had unavoidably caused.

Once most of it had passed Sam gritted his teeth and pushed himself the rest of the way up onto his own two feet.

Making sure he was steady on his feet Sam slowly started walking, carefully shuffling over to where Caleb had put his military duffel bag.

With a tiny groan Sam carefully lowered himself onto one knee and undid the zipper on the bag.

Once the bag was open Sam dug around, pulling out some of the civilian clothes he had among his standard military issues apparel.

With a plain white t-shirt and a baggy pair of black seat-pants draped over the crook of his unbroken arm and quietly made his way out of the room.

Sam made an effort to be extra quiet as he made his way down the hall so that he didn't alert the older men all gathered downstairs that he was awake and moving about with taking a hot shower in mind.

The youngest Winchester let a small smile spread over his bruise countenance when after poking a prodding at the door he passed by he finally found the one to the bathroom.

He quickly ducked inside and locked the door.

Sam placed his fresh clothes lightly folded, onto the top of the closed laundry hamper and promptly set to work.

He first went to the mirrored cabinet mounted above the sink and opened it.

" Thank you Pastor Jim." Mumbled Sam under his breath as he pulled out the first-aid kit and opened it to reveal it's full stocked contents.

Sam quickly pulled out the small pair of surgical scissors and got ready to use it.

First and with a great amount of difficulty because of his damaged ribs, Sam pulled off the thin green military T-shirt to reveal his tightly bound lower chest.

Readying the scissors in his hand, Sam carefully pulled some of the gauze taught away from his body and closed the blades onto it, easily slicing through the material.

After the first snip, Sam began steadily slicing through the rest of the gauze until the tight band around his ribs fell loose had been severed clean through.

Sam exhaled slowly as he felt a small ache settle around his freshly freed ribcage.

Doing his best to ignore the pain, Sam finished getting undressed even though getting his MARPAT pants off had nearly killed him it hurt so much.

Once his old clothes were neatly folded and placed on the top of the hamper next to the fresh set he'd be donning after his shower, Sam gingerly reached for the doorknob to the small bathroom closet and pulled it open.

Looking inside he snatched one of the many plastic bags that littered the closet floor.

Shutting the door Sam swiftly began the arduous task of the tying the bag one handed around his cast encased left arm.

With his uninjured hand Sam pulled the thin plastic bag over the length of his left arm, thankful that the bag was big enough to cover the whole cast and even go past it by a few inches.

Long and dexterous fingers tied the two loops that served as the bags handles together into a loose knot.

With a small sigh Sam turned and headed for the glass-paned shower stall, once there he reached for the knobs to the hot and cold water.

Seconds later a cascade of liquid was erupting from the faucet.

Sam sporadically stuck his fingers in the spray to gage the temperature and adjust the knobs until he found his ideal setting.

Once that was done Sam reached for the knob situated between the hot and cold knobs and turned it.

Instantly the cascade coming out of the faucet disappeared, only to reappear a second later out of the shower-head.

Eager to ease the ache that had settled over his much abused body, Sam carefully stepped into the stall and slid the glass door shut behind him.

Sam groaned deep and low as the lightly steaming water hit him with a solid but over-all gentle pressure.

Carefully keeping his bag encased arm away from the heavenly spray, Sam slowly turned under the water letting it soak him all over.

The water felt especially good over the bruises painted across one side of his ribcage and his collar-bone.

Sam enjoyed his first shower since returning to the United States for about twenty minutes more.

With some reluctance he turned the water off and righted all of the knobs before sliding the glass door open and using a long arm to grab up one of the big fluffy white towels hanging of a nearly hook.

The plastic bag around his left arm crackled loudly as he used his slightly damaged appendage to hold one end of the towel up against his abdomen and somehow crudely wrapped the fluffy cloth around his waist.

With the towel wrapped as securely around his waste as he could manage Sam stepped out of the stall.

Snatching up a second towel Sam quickly started drying himself off one handed.

The metal dog-tags hanging around his neck chimed softly against one another anytime his hand hit them while he wiped his chest dry.

Once he dried himself off as much as possible under the current circumstances Sam snatched up the sweatpants and gritted his teeth while he pulled them on.

That hot shower may have loosened him up but, his ribs still protested to the movement of bending down loud and clear.

Once that was out of the way, Sam quickly packed up the first aid kit and put it back into the cabinet.

Next, he picked up all the clothes that remained on top of the laundry hamper and held them in the crook of his good arm.

Using the same arm he awkwardly reached for the bathroom door knob.

He pulled the door open part way and stuck his head out, his eye darting here and there to make sure that the coast was clear.

He was in a house full of experience demon hunters, who also happened to be collectively protective of him in particular, now more than ever.

Last thing he wanted was to get caught caught the lectures he'd undoubtedly receive would've stripped his ears.

But a quick look around told Sam that things were in the clear, his ear caught the faint sounds of distant voices and movement coming from downstairs.

Seeing this as the best chance he had, Sam swiftly stepped out of the bathroom and shut the door as silently as he could before he put his long legs to use and made quick work of the distance between himself and the guest room he and Dean were staying in.

Once he reached the door he ducked inside, relieved to find himself the only occupant.

He was safely inside but, his work was far from over.

He still had to re-bind a new dressing around his damaged ribs.

Making his way over to his still open duffel bag, Sam set his military clothes down beside it and draped the plain white t-shirt over one naked shoulder before digging into the bag for the items he needed.

After a few moment of rummaging about Sam's hand came up with the zip-lock bag one of the medics had provided him before he'd left headquarters with the others.

With the bag in hand Sam made his way over to his designated bed and took a seat over the edge.

He promptly opened the bag and pulled out the roll of fresh medical gauze.

Now came the hard part.

How was he going to unroll the gauze and then start binding his ribs with only one hand?

" I'll just figure it out as a go." Thought Sam, even though a small part of him wanted his brother or his father here to help him.

Sam stubbornly fought back the urge.

He was a united States Marine deactivated from service or not, he'd take care of this himself.

Honest.

With a small huff and a wince, Sam began to awkwardly carry out the task of unrolling the gauze.

His attention was so focused on the task that Sam didn't even hear it when the door to the room opened.

" Sammy what the hell do you think you're doing?" Came a loud and very familiar voice.

Sam whirled his head around fast enough to almost give himself whip-lash and found himself staring back at both his father who'd spoken loudly in outrage standing in the doorway and his equally stunned older brother standing behind him.

" Uuh... Well I... Umm." Was Sam articulate response to his father's inquiry.

" Hey what's going on?" Came a new voice into the fray.

Pastor Jim, most likely with bobby and Caleb behind him.

Sam Winchester bit back a groan.

He'd been made.

_A few minutes later... _

" Ow!" Yelped Sam.

" Sorry Sammy." Said Dean softly as he continued carefully wrapping his baby brother's lower chest.

The dressing needed to be tight, therefore there would be a fair amount pain involved.

" Sammy why didn't you call one of us when you woke up, me or your brother would've been there to help you with this in a split-second?" Asked John as he sat across from his boys on the other bed.

" I'm sorry. But I didn't think it was such a big deal, I just took a shower and was going to wrap my ribs back up again. Simple as that." Said Sam softly.

" It probably would've been but Sam, you got yourself a busted arm and besides that, you got people here ready to help if you need it." Said Pastor Jim where he sat in one of the cushioned chairs by the window.

Bobby, Caleb, John, and Dean all nodded at those words.

" Alright, alright I give. I'll let all you guys mother-hen me for the time being. Just don't take it too far, please." Sighed Sam.

This caused chuckles all around as Dean spoke.

" Hey now, we haven't had you with us for two years Sammy, I don't plan on letting you outta my sight any time soon."

" Ditto on that." Piped in John with a nod and smile.

Pastor Jim, bobby, and Caleb added there own words of agreement into the mix.

Sam bowed his head and nodded, a small and slightly sad smile gracing his lips.

Dean was right after all, there were two whole years worth of mother-hen urges that needed to be released.

Although in his case it was gonna be dealing with a father, a brother, and three uncle-hens.

_" Damn, I'm gonna be like the dog tied with a short rope to a tree inside a cage, with three satellites circling around it if they all have their way."_ Thought Sam.

And in the very back of his mind, he also knew that there was still some very serious issues that had yet to be resolved.

Issues that really needed to be resolved so that all of them could go forward.


	33. Chapter 33

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

Chapter 33

True to Sam's predictions he did find himself under tight surveillance in the hours after he'd been caught trying to rebind his own ribs.

Though every other person contributed to watching his every move it was his father and big brother who seemed completely zeroed in on him like a pair of hawks.

But could any of them be blamed for this slightly too focused behavior?

No, not one bit.

Two whole years of not having the one person you would guard with your very soul and body would make even the toughest of men feel the surges of protectiveness and maybe even a little paranoia as well.

From meeting all of the eyes that were trained on him only for a few furtive seconds Sam knew instantly that these five hardened men who had seen things most people only have nightmares about... were scared.

It was there behind the warm protectiveness and the ever constant vigilance.

All five of these men were afraid that if they dared to take their eyes off of Sam for even a moment he'd disappear again from their lives like he had those two long years ago.

Back then he'd been just an eighteen year old fresh out of high school.

Now he was a Marine, a war veteran freshly returned from a place seeming to be Hell on Earth for a lot of the time he'd been there.

All five of these older men probably had more or less the same thoughts running through their minds.

//If it had been so easy for Sam to pull off such a stunt on all of them while he was still a slightly awkward teenager, it raised the question of what he'd be capable of now, _still a teenager_ but also a tall and battered soldier trained in the strategies of war and having most likely picked up a few new tricks during his two year tour of duty in Iraq.//

As for right now Sam found himself virtually surrounded by the unofficial tight security detail that is otherwise known as family.

Sam was on the large sofa with Dean and John flanking him on either side. Bobby and Caleb had taken up their respective places in the comfortable matching chairs on either side of the sofa the three Winchester's were occupying.

A third chair stood beside the one Bobby was sitting in, empty at the moment because the last member of 'Sam's protection detail' was currently in the kitchen talking on the phone making dinner arrangements.

In this case ordering a deluxe combo pizza pie from the one of the local pizzeria's called Soriano's.

" Alright, the pizza's on it's way. Should be here in twenty minutes." Said Pastor Jim as he came into the living room and took up the available seat. His words cause expressions of approval all around.

" Great." Grinned John.

" I'm starving." Piped in Caleb.

" Dinner of champions." Grumbled Bobby.

" Thanks pastor Jim." Said Sam with a small smile.

" Did you remember the extra cheese?" Asked Dean.

" Dean, I think the pizza will taste just as good with or without the extra cheese." Muttered Pastor Jim.

" Besides, consider the rest of us man. I think I speak for everyone, but mainly myself when I say that none of us want you _cutting _the 'extra cheese' after you've digested it all." Quipped Sam.

Much to Dean's chagrin John, Pastor Jim, Bobby, and Caleb all made noises of agreement to Sam's words.

" Just be happy with the deluxe part big brother." Smiled Sam.

" Alright, alright." Conceded Dean. Come to think of it Sam had a point. The deluxe pizza was just fine by him.

They all tapered off into silence, waiting for the pizza and watching the game on the T.V. They groaned when the team they were rooting for fumbled gave small cheers when they scored. They didn't really care much for it, the five older men all stole glances at Sam feeling elation just to see him smile. Sam wasn't giving much to the game himself, he was silently basking in the feeling of being surrounded by his family.

Then the door bell rang signaling the arrival of dinner.

" I'll get it!" Said Dean before anyone else even thought about getting up.

" Hold your horses ya bottomless pit and take this first." Said Pastor Jim in good natured jest as he held out the bills of payment for the pizza. Dean grinned widely and grabbed up the money from Pastor Jim before scurrying off to the front door.

" Still can't come between Dean and Food, glad that didn't change." Sighed Sam with a small grin of his own.

" I doubt that's ever gonna change Sammy." Added John as he watched his eldest son flirt lightly with the young lady standing on the other side of the door holding a large flat box.

A few seconds later Dean was happily walking back into the living room with the pizza box in held in his hands along with a small fold piece of paper held between the index and middle fingers of his left hand.

As he set the box down, Sam piped up.

" Lemme guess, that's the pizza girl's phone number." He said with a quirked eyebrow.

" Her names Daphne." Shot back Dean before he waved the paper at Sam.

" I still got it. Unlike you, I bet you'd trip over those abnormally large feet of yours the next time you meet something in a skirt seeing as to how you've been around nothing but guys for two years." Said Dean in good natured mocking.

" Oh, don't be too sure about that Dean. Sure it was a majority of guys out there but there were some very lovely ladies among us. Ladies who could put you on your ass if they wanted to Big Brother." Retorted Sam with a small smirk.

" So does this mean my baby bro got some out there in a War Zone?" Asked Dean with a smirk of his own.

" My lips are sealed Dean, now shut up and let me eat." Said Sam, effectively ending that line of conversation.

The older men all rumbled with chuckles as the pizza box was opened and the perfect circle of the deluxe pie inside was broken as the slices were snatched up by hungry men. The six men all enjoyed the good pizza and had a few great big laughs over everything from Dean's feeding habits to a play in the football they'd been watching. Then Sam suddenly got up.

" I feel kinda beat, I'm gonna hit the hay." He said before he walked off towards the stairs. On the way he could feel all five pairs of eyes on him as he climbed the stairs and disappeared to the second floor. John turned to Dean and gave him this look. Dean understood perfectly what the meaning of this look was and nodded to his father. The two elder Winchesters rose to there feet and gave the three other men serious faced looks. Pastor Jim, Bobby, and Caleb all knew that they were all too stay down in the living room, they all nodded in understanding that this was going to be a private moment for only the Winchesters. Returning the nods silently, John and Dean walked over the long cold foot steps of there youngest and disappeared up the stairs to the second floor.

Sam sat over the edge of his bed in the room he'd be sharing with Dean. From out in the hallway he could here the shuffle of feet. He knew who they were and simply sat there and waited. Sure enough, Dean and his dad were wordlessly entering the room, Dean shutting the door behind them. Sam didn't need to look up at his father or his brother, he could feel the tension and the seriousness coming off them like heat even from all the way where he sat.

Then two pair of feet came into his line of vision with the floor. The sound of the springs creaking from the other queen sized bed across from him told Sam that his father and his brother were sitting across from him. Taking in a deep breath to steady his nerves, Sam slowly straightened himself up in the way he was sitting and finally faced his family.

Sam Winchester had faced two whole years of full out war and all of it's uncertainties and survived it to come home. He had faced it all without much fear because he was a trained soldier. But right now as he met his father and brother's duel gazes, Sam felt a small icy cold tendril fear grip his heart. John and Dean stared at their youngest with an intensity that would've frightened even the most hardened of men. They were all but boring holes into the young man sitting before them. It was John who finally broke the silence.

" We have some things that need to be talked about Sammy."

" Y-Yeah, I figured we did." Replied Sam softly with a small nod of acceptance.

The next thing he knew, large callous roughened hands were firmly seizing him by the sides of his head and pulling him forward till his face was mere inches away from that of his father's mutely furious looking visage.

" Oh, you figured. Well, I guess you figured out a lot of things didn't Samuel." Gritted out John. Beside him Dean looked at war with himself on whether or not to come to Sam's aid or let his father continue in what he was doing.

To John's silent pride, Sam did not look away or flinch at his words. He stared back at him in full acceptance of whatever was going to come.

" I am so proud of you Sam that I feel like my hearts gonna explode inside me. But at the same time I am so mad at you I can hardly think straight." Began John. Both Dean and San nodded at his words before he continued.

" Why didn't you come to me or to Dean when you had that dream? Why didn't you tell either of us right after you had it?" Asked John desperately.

Sam licked suddenly dry lips and swallowed passed the painful lump that had formed inside his throat before he answered his father's question.

" I was... I was scared Dad. The dream, it... It felt so real. I could feel blood from you both spilling onto my face, I could feel the heat from when the flames started. I can still hear his voice in my ear, I can still see you both on the ceiling. I didn't... I couldn't risk that thing coming after you both if I told, so I... I ran. Like a coward, I ran away." Gritted out Sam.

" You are not a coward Sammy. A little bit of an idiot maybe, but not a coward. So don't you dare go callin' yourself that. I won't stand for it." Said Dean vehemently. He felt his heart clench painfully when he'd heard Sam call himself a coward. That was the very last thing his baby brother was or ever would be.

" That goes for me too Son, cowards don't face war and come back. You are definitely not a coward, you're a Marine." Said John gruffly as he gave Sam's head a small shake to try and knock this sense into him.

Sam felt his eyes sting with salt and did his best to blink back the tears and get his voice steady before he spoke.

" Thanks for saying that."

" Always Sammy." Replied Dean while John just nodded and eased his grip a little on Sam's head. Then Dean spoke.

" God, I'm just so mad at you Sam. I mean, you were gone for years, for years and you could have died out there, and look at you now, your so beat up and hurt. You should have come to me or to Dad Sam, not lied and left us like that. You just took every single hit we threw at you. Sammy you didn't deserve all the crap me and dad put on you. How could you just let us keep hurting you like that?" Asked Dean, and he didn't bother hiding the tears welling in his own eyes as he stared at his brother.

Sam just gave a small shrug as he answered.

" I didn't mind it all that much. I knew you guy's didn't know what was really going on. And... I part of me felt I did deserve it all." He said, with his eyes going to the ground when he uttered the last part.

" Sammy." Dean breathed in disbelief.

Both Dean and John realized how deeply embedded Sam's self-deprecation and self-flagellation were. They would have to make their youngest see differently now that they finally had him with them.

" Dad, Dean, I'm so sorry." Said Sam softly.

" We know you are Sammy, I'm sorry to for driving you away like I did. Now I really wish you had gone to Stanford instead of where you ended up. God Sammy, monster and ghosts, and all of those things that were hunt I can somehow deal with have you boys face. But war, all out war caused and fought by humans. I never wanted you to face that, I never wanted you or Dean to ever face anything like that. You see the worst of humans out there, I'd rather have you both facing the stuff people see in their nightmares than to see that. But now, you've seen it, I know you saw the worst in people out there and the innocent victims that got caught in the middle. God, believe me I know, I have seen it to back in 'Nam. I swore I'd never let my kids experience something like that. But look what's happened, I failed at that anyway. And now you, my baby boy went went and saw it, lived through it." John's voice broke at this last part and had both Sam and Dean's hearts breaking.

" No Dad, don't think that." Assured Dean.

" Dad you didn't fail. I brought it on myself when I enlisted. The horrible things I had to go through are on me dad, it was my choice. You are not a failure." Said Sam, meaning every words of it.

With a shaky breath John spoke.

" Sammy, you're home now. This means I gotta get a promise outta you." Said John.

" What do want me to promise?" Asked Sam.

" I want you to promise me and your brother right here and right now that you are never gonna pull a stunt like this one ever again." Said John.

" Dad I-" Sam began when Dean cut him off.

" Promise us Sammy. Promise me and Dad both that you won't do something like this to us ever again. Promise us." Said Dean.

" I promise, I promise I won't leave you like I did ever again. I promise." Said Sam, in the back of his mind he hoped with all that he had in him that he actually could keep this promise.

" Swear it Sam." Said Dean.

" I swear." Answered Sam.

" Swear it on you mother that you won't." Said John finally with deadly seriousness.

This had both Dean and Sam breaking just a little more.

" I-I... I swear on Mom that I won't. I swear." Said Sam with a small sob as he finally let the wall crumble and let the tears spill out in full force.

John let out a deep breath and felt some of the emotions that had been eating at him diminish, but it didn't totally disappear. Only time and having his youngest son would be able to to that. Dean felt himself grow lighter upon hearing his baby brother's solemn promise. He knew that Sam would not be one to go back on his word but, Dean had no intention of letting his brother out of his sight from now on. His and his father's vigilance would be ten-fold now, though they would try their best to be discreet, they would do their very best to ensure that Sam never did what he did right under their noses ever again.

John relinquished his tight hold on Sam's face and drew his wayward offspring to him in a careful but still slightly crushing embrace. His boy was injured severely after all. Sam let his eyes fall shut and rested his cheek against his fathers shoulder and then the warmth surround him. Dean sat back and watched his father and brother in silence, not wanting to ruin the moment between them. Then before he knew it John's strong arm was hooking his around the shoulders and pulling him into the embrace. Not really caring about just how much estrogen was floating around in the room now, Dean wrapped his arms around his father and Sam.

" You bet your ass you better swear it Sammy. You do something like what you did I will kill you myself. Two years Sammy, we were robbed of two years. Don't you dare do something like that again, don't you fucking dare do something like that again. Please don't you dare." Said Dean with a small sob of his own before he pressed his forehead to Sam's and let his own eyes fall shut, tears still leaking through the seams of his eye-lids and down his cheeks.

Then both Sam and Dean felt a hand alternate in stroking across their heads.

Dad.

The three Winchesters sat there not saying a word now, just the restrained sounds of a family letting go of some of the hurt and the guilt that they had all been carrying for more that two years now. It was with letting go that they could all move foreward.

A few Weeks later...

" Boys, are you all packed and ready?" Called John from downstairs as he pulled on his heavy winter jacket.

" Yes Sir." Came to perfectly synchronized responses from upstairs.

" Well then get down here, it's time to go." Said John as he picked up his own duffel bags and headed out the front door of Pastor Jim's house. Bobby Singer had already headed back to South Dakota while Caleb Reeves had gotten a call and gone off to Wisconsin to help out a fellow hunter. These two had bid everyone a fond farewell for now, especially Sam before they headed off back to their own lives.

Now it was the Winchesters and Pastor Jim who were heading back into life.

They would be headed to Blue Earth, Minnesota to drop pastor Jim off at his home before the three Winchesters would be headed off to the next job they could find.

" Dean just focus of carrying your own bags, I'm fine only my left arm's busted, I still got my right." Grumbled Sam as he and Dean made their way down the stairs to the first floor.

" Alright fine. Just sayin' this is the only time I'm gonna offer to carry anything for you. The second your fully healed you are on your own." Shrugged Dean.

" Dean I'm fine, honest." Said Sam softly as they reached the living room.

" Okay Sammy, just making sure." Said Dean with a warm smile. One which Sam happily returned.

" Thanks for that man." Said Sam.

" No problem, now enough cause it is way to early for a chick-flick moment." Grumbled Dean as he lead the way towards the front door.

" Jerk." Said Sam softly behind Dean.

Dean heard him and without looking, he spoke.

" Bitch."

Sam grinned in the broad famous way of his as he and Dean walked out of the house into the fresh, if still chilly New York morning air.

" No did you two make sure you didn't leave anything?" Asked Pastor Jim as he dug his house key out of his jacket pocket.

" Everything's accounted for Pastor Jim." Nodded Dean.

" Alright then." Said Pastor Jim as he pulled the front door shut and locked it thoroughly. The caretaker would be by in a few days to keep an eye on the place.

With that Pastor Jim and the Winchester brothers made their way down the front steps and over to where a gigantic black Sierra Grand truck and a sleek black Chevy Impala were waiting.

" Alright Jim, hop on in." Said John as he pointed to his car with his thumb.

" Got it." Nodded Jim before he went and around to the truck's passenger side.

John walked with his boys over to the Impala and then spoke to Sam where they all stood before the car's open trunk.

" You alright Sammy." He asked eying his son with slight concern.

" Yeah, I'm okay Dad, still aches here and there but it's not as bad as it was in the begining." Answered Sam.

" Good to hear." Nodded John.

He lingered and watched his boys pack their bags into the trunk. Then Sam suddenly had a slightly sad look on his face as he eyed the various weapons and gadgets the trunk held within.

" What's the matter Sammy?" Asked Dean. John too eyes his boy.

Sam sighed and then bowed his head as he spoke.

" Oh, it's nothing really. It's just that..." Sam trailed off.

" What is it Sam?" Asked John.

" It's just that, I miss my M16." Said Sam, then he pushed out his bottom lip making a corning sad face and fighting back a grin.

There was a beat of silence and then, both Dean and John burst into hearty guffaws of laughter. Then Sam was joining in.

" Oh God, just get in the car. We've got a long drive to Minnesota ahead of us." Sighed John before he turned and headed back to his own truck, still chuckling as he went.

Dean and Sam stood there giggling for a few seconds to themselves before Sam tossed his final back into the trunk.

Still smiling, Dean spoke.

" Your ready little brother?" He asked.

Sam smiled back at Dean and nodded.

" Yeah, I'm ready." Sighed Sam before he turned his gaze back down at the trunk.

He pressed his uninjured hand to the top of the trunk and then spoke.

" We got work to do."

Then the trunk was shutting with a dull thud.

**The End **

* * *

Well, this is the end of Soldier Boy. I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed and loved this story. And stay tuned because I am contemplating a sequel that parallels the seasons of the show. This may be the end... For now. Again, Thank you all.


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